Cobra Strikes
by CaddySam
Summary: A determined young Elysian girl finds herself in the claws of the cunning Agent M. Kruger. Protea struggles to understand this otheriwse violent mercenary when he not only shows her mercy, but also reveals vulnerable fragments of himself. Captivated and cautious, Protea finds herself on an emotional roller coaster, flipping between love and loathing for the venemous Kruger.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

My back hit the wall as I tried to retreat further into the old deserted gas station. I never took my eyes off of him. It felt like I was staring down a wild animal, a cobra, unable to flee. He stalked forward from the dust. A small smirk crossed his lips as he smelt my fear, like a predator drinking in the terror if its prey. His dark eyes glittered amidst his dirty face.  
>I stood, frozen in fear. I could do nothing. He was superior to me in every way. His strength, I could not hope to overcome. His speed, unlikely I could ever defeat it. His desire... There was no escape.<br>"Look who's stopped running..." Agent M. Kruger growled mockingly. "I was wondering if you'd eva stop, my little gazelle."  
>I spat in his direction, snarling angrily. He was only feet from me now. I could smell his rancid breath on the wind.<br>"Ooh, you're a fighta," he mused, "I like that."  
>He did not advance any more. He only stood there, staring me down. Intimidating. Terrifying.<br>I couldn't imagine what he planned on doing to me. He was well known for his cunning intellect in combat and was an expertly efficient killer. I had destroyed his home, torched it as if it were some peasant's; worst mistake of my young life. He was the devil incarnate, and it was fleeting that he would show me mercy.

The tension was suffocating me.

Hoping to entice him, I yelled, "Shut up, you motherfucker! Come at me, if you dare!" My faux intimidation failed. Kruger immediately sensed the weakest point in my routine.  
>"If I dare, eh?" He chortled before striding towards me, filling the gap between us in a second. "Or what, princess? What will you do?"<br>My legs began to fail me, my body started to shut down. My flight instinct had left me, I was exhausted. The fight in me was quickly diminishing.  
>Agent Kruger, famed serial murder of Earth and Elysium, stood breathing down my neck. It was like staring into the face of hell, and hell had two nasty little eyes and a dirty, unkempt beard.<br>"I d-didn't d-d-do it... I... I d-didn't..." I could only stammer weakly as I plead innocence. I had been told to do it, under threat for my life. I thought I could get away before Kruger found me. I was so wrong.  
>"Shush, shh, shh, shh..." Kruger hissed from above me. His hands snakes around my wrists and held them at my side. He leaned forward, closing what little space was left between us, pressing his chest against me. "Poor little girl neva stood a chance anyway," he whispered in my ear. His hot breath dripped down my neck like steam.<br>I closed my eyes tightly, choking back desperate sobs.  
>"Don't be so scared, princess... Imma make you my queen..."<br>Kruger's lips crawled across the tender skin of my neck, placing gentle kisses pain-stakingly slow around my most vulnerable flesh. My blood ran cold at the physical connection of our bodies. He could do anything he wanted now. I had heard stories of him ripping out his victims throats with his bare teeth. Perhaps I would be one of those lucky victims.  
>I could feel Kruger staring down at me, his eyes level with mine. It was a long time before I was quietly told to open my eyes. I felt his rough hand turn my chin to face him. He repeated his demand, louder, more forcefully. My eyes snapped open to meet not black eyes, but green. If fear had not so thickly coated me, I would've been surprised.<br>"You're coming with me," he growled simply. My brow must've furrowed in confusion. I had forgotten why I was here amidst the adrenaline pumping viciously through my veins. "Don't you know it's against the law to destroy someone's property?" He smiled manically. "You destroyed mine pretty badly."  
>"Please," I cried softly, "please, I didn't do it, M-my boss... H-he m-m-made me d-do it. He threatened my f-f-family..."<br>"Muh, muh," he mocked, pouting sarcastically. "You should have thought betta before you torched my hut! Now come along like a good little princess!"  
>Kruger's grip tightened immensely around my wrist as he wrenched me to my feet. He dragged me stumbling and fighting out of the abandoned gas station where I tried to hide.<br>"You see, princess, around hea, I'm the boss! I make the rules." He turned to face me. "You're not on Elysium anymore, princess..." He roared so loudly that my ears began to ring. The fact that he knew I was from Elysium, terrified me. What else did he know about me?  
>He barked a command towards his shoulder, signaling for his men to meet him. I cried out desperately and fought against his iron grip harder. I begged and plead louder for him to let me go, that it wasn't my fault, and that I wouldn't do it again.<br>"It's too late for that now, princess. You broke the rules. My rules. Now you git to face the consequences." He shot a terrifying glare at me, one so poisonous it could kill a mamba. I crumpled like a burlap bag beneath a stone. If one look from this monster could paralyze me, I could only fathom what his hands could do.  
>I heard the MCK-030211 before I saw it. Its trademark camouflage colouring, and its painted springbok silhouette hovered above our heads. One of Kruger's men leaned out of the side door, smiling down at his boss and his captured prey. Kruger yanked my hand into the air and waved it around.<br>"Lookie what I found boys! My little pyrotechnic!"  
>The aircraft touched down several feet in front of us. I could hear the dogs in the ship snickering maliciously. Kruger re-adjusted his grip on me. I felt his arm snake around my waist as his other hand grasped my shoulder heavily. He held me close as we boarded the aircraft. I fought harder, but to no avail. I flailed my head around hoping to hit Kruger's face. The back of my head connected with nasal cartilage and I heard a pained hiss come from behind me.<br>Kruger flung me into a seat after he bound my wrists behind me. He fastened the buckle around my waist and chest. He seized my throat. I choked and sputtered as he glared down at me. A drop of his blood trickled down from his nose and lost itself in his matted beard. With failing vision and limited breath, I spat weakly at him. He only laughed at my feeble attempt to fight.  
>I had been born on Elysium, it was true. I was only twenty when they deported me to Earth for stealing from the government. I had hacked into the elites' bank system and stole hundreds of thousands of dollars. I sent the money to Spider, a selfish computer hacker on Earth, who organized the immigration revolution. The money was to fund escape crafts' development. Better, stronger metal was hard to get under the poverty line. When the funds reached Spider, he must've sent several crafts out. Stealthy crafts were meant to remain undetected as they attempted to reach Elysium. As soon as I sent the funds to Earth, the government was able to track me down. If I were caught, I would be deported and have my citizenship suspended or terminated. My family would be left behind, without me to protect them. I tried to cover my tracks as best I could, but a man of high esteem, the man I now worked for, caught me almost immediately. He had only revealed his name once; Mark Delacourt, husband of CCA Secretary Gabriella Delacourt. As I was being deported, he approached me with a task. He claimed that he was for the revolution and with the immigration rights of Illegals to Elysium. Like a fool, I believed him. I was told to discover if my efforts had paid off. He said he would reward me with the safety of my family and my citizenship re-instated. Three years later, I had come fleetingly close to completing my task. My capture set me back dramatically. When I got out of Kruger's grasp, I'd have to create a new identity, and vanish completely from L.A. If I ever got away.<br>"What are you even here for, princess..." Kruger mused, looking down at me. "What did you do...to come to hell..." He released my throat and stalked away, barking orders at the pilot.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Kruger's current deputy, Tweedy, slid up to me from out of nowhere. He wore a malicious smile as he slowly traced my figure. I inched as far as I could away from him. He leaned closer, breathing down my neck.  
>"Where'd you come from, eh, bunny?" he hissed. "You remind me of a girl I used to know..." His chubby fingers walked up the side of my thigh, sending jolts of disgust through my body as his other hand grasped my knee. I leaned away, turning my head and clenching my eyes shut. "I really loved to tickle her...right...here..." His fingers crept dangerously close to my dignity. I let out a loud sob, unable to control my fear anymore. "Give us a kiss, come on, bunny."<br>A loud roar sounded from the cockpit. Suddenly, I felt Tweedy release his grasp on me. My eyes snapped open to see the deputy lying flat on the floor, and Kruger standing over him. Kruger crouched low over his deputy and had his throat in his hand. "Don't you fookin' touch her," he growled viciously. He spat in his own deputy's face. He pointed a dirty finger directly between his eyes. "Or else, you'll find one of my new toys...right...here..." He pressed his finger down hard between Tweedy's eyes. "Then, it'll go beep beep boom!" Kruger laughed manically. Tweedy could only stare, petrified.  
>Kruger stood, then viciously kicked Tweedy in the ribs, likely breaking them. His deputy lay crumpled on the floor, moaning softly. Kruger stalked away, glancing at me breifly. Once again, his eyes were green, not black. He returned to the cockpit, telling his pilot, Crowe, to redirect their flight path.<br>((I was still stunned at what happened just now. It almost seemed as if Kruger had come to my rescue. Or it could be that he was saving me all for himself, and that he didn't want me spoiled. Either way, I didn't want to be a part of it.  
>Kruger returned from the cockpit, and growled at Tweedy, who was fighting to right himself before his brutal boss did it for him.<br>"Get the fuck up," Kruger barked. "Or I'll have you tossed out of this craft faster than you can come, and that's pretty fookin' fast for you, isn't it! Leave us."  
>Tweedy nodded profusely as he clutched his ribs and stood up. He hobbled towards the cockpit and closed the door, leaving me alone with the predator who had saved me from another. My emotions were mixed, and I was even more confused than before. Kruger had not changed from the time he captured me to the time we boarded. He was still the same nasty prick he has always been. I wasn't about to let my guard down because he had brutally assaulted his own man when he was harassing me.<br>"Just us now." Kruger sat opposite to me, leaning forward intently. He smiled slightly, as if he was proud of what he just did to Tweedy. "I saved you," he noted. He waited for me to respond. I only nodded slightly, confusion and concern deepening the furrow in my brow. He clearly didn't make my situation easier by any means. If he wanted to save me, he would let me go. That wasn't about to happen.  
>I cautiously cleared my throat, worried he would strike me if I spoke on my own without his permission. He only looked on intently.<br>"W-where are you t-taking me...?" I whispered hoarsely, beginning to shiver. Kruger only stared. It was a long time before he spoke.  
>"So how did you end up hea, princess? What happened up thea?" He motioned upwards, referring to Elysium.<br>I said nothing. I didn't trust Kruger in the slightest, but there was something about him now that wasn't apparent before. I could figure out what it was.  
>"Come on, princess..." Kruger growled softly. With lightning speed, he delivered a strong slap across my face. I gasped more from the speed of his strike as opposed to the contact. His other hand clasped my mouth as I screamed. I felt my skin beginning to tingle with pain. He released my mouth as I stifled a sob, tears welled up in my eyes. "Why aren't you in Elyisum?" he demanded strongly.<br>I cried gently. "Please... Please let me go..." I sobbed, "Please..." I crumpled. forward, dropping my head towards my knees, tears flowing freely.  
>"No, no, I can't do that, princess," Kruger whispered. I felt his hand grasp my chin strongly. He titled my face up without much fight from me. I was so desperately frightened and tired that all fight had left me. "You remind me too much..."<br>"What?" I whimpered.  
>Kruger leaned forward and kissed me fiercely, his hands grasped my jaw tightly. I couldn't move away, nor could I scream. I tried to keep my teeth clenched against his aggressive tongue, but to no avail. He squeezed with his hands, sending a jolt of pain through my jaw. I could not help but gasp at the pain and shock as Kruger's tongue slithered into my mouth. The urge to gag was overwhelming.<br>"Hey, boss! We're hea!"  
>A signal came from the cockpit as Crowe notified that we had reached the intended destination. Kruger leaned back, making a slurping noise as his tongue left my mouth. He panted lightly.<br>"I can't let you go," Kruger said. He wiped his mouth as he strode towards the cockpit. As soon as he was out of sight, I retched from the taste of him in my mouth. As I sputtered, I felt the aircraft tilt as we descended. I had no idea where we were and I could only hope to flee once we got out.  
>The aircraft landed. Crowe came through the cockpit door first, Kruger followed him. Tweedy hobbled out weakly, clearly suffering from his injuries. The three men stood in a line before me. Kruger tilted his chin, ordering his dogs to work. Crowe stepped towards me as Tweedy opened the door. I was released from my seat. Crowe guided me towards the door, past Kruger, who still stood in the center of the craft.<br>"You see, princess," Kruger began, "you weren't the only one who was on a mission from up thea."  
>My eyes began to readjust from the brightness of the ship to the darkness of outside. I had not even remembered what time it was. I knew I had been captured in the late afternoon, for it was early evening now.<br>As my eyes adjusted, I could see what appeared to be ruins of a desolate spacecraft. It looked very similar to the rescue crafts that I had been funding for years on Elysium. As I looked closer, I even recognized the spider decal that the leader of the rescue resistance used on his crafts. I gasped as I looked around and saw more ruined crafts.  
>"What..." I gasped, "what is this?"<br>"This, princess," Kruger started, "is what happens when you try to help those beneath you."  
>I whipped my head around to stare desperately at him. I didn't understand how so many of Spider's crafts had not made it to Elysium. I had sent the money and immediately got deported. Elysium was not that big of a nation, and the government had traced my digital signature somehow. I suppose that I never actually greeted a rescue shuttle on Elysium before.<br>"Wh-what happened to them?"  
>"Kruga happened to them, sweetheart," Crowe spoke from behind me, wrenching my hands backwards. I clenched my teeth and screwed my face in pain.<br>"Step away, Crowe," Kruger ordered. Crowe immediately released my hands, allowing me a limited amount of movement. I looked cautiously over my shoulder, and saw Kruger nod, motioning for me to inspect the broken crafts. His blackened stare warned me not to run, and a look was all I needed to know I would receive a harsh punishment if I tried anything.  
>Cautiously creeping forward, I analyzed the ruins. There looked to be about seven crafts in total, though most were beyond recognition. I could already tell that my rescue efforts had failed. Perhaps if I had not been deported, or at least caught, I would've been able to greet at least one ship and save its citizens. I had a bunker made on Elysium where Illegals could wait for me and Spider to work out their citizenship. Crushing sadness suffocated me worse than Kruger's hand. Nothing could compare to this pain of knowing I had come so close to saving these people, to saving my family, and failing.<br>I sank to my knees and began to cry softly before the ruins of my sacrifice. Kruger slunk around beside me, placing a dominant hand on my back. He crouched as he hissed in my ear, "You see, princess, it was my mission to stop you."  
>I looked at him in desperate confusion. He clearly was smarter than I believed him to be. He knew all about me, about my mission, who I was, where I came from. I had no political protection. He could do whatever he wanted.<br>"You're not the only one who works for a Delacourt."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I stared wide-eyed. Now I understood. The unapparent thing I felt between Kruger and I, was that we worked for the same people "Y-you work for Delacourt?" I stammered.

"That's right, princess..." Kruger growled softly. He paused as he waited for me to look at him. "I work for the missus."

How could I have not figured this out before, why had I not seen it? I should have known Kruger was a special forces agent. He didn't carry himself as an agent, no, he was much more brutal.

"What do you expect to do, then?" I yelled at him, finding my voice for the first time since the initial capture. "Do you expect to take me back to Elysium? To send me to the government's claws? Do you honestly expect I'll suffer there, you psychotic fuck!?"

"Yes."

Kruger's simple answer sent shivers through my body. His confidence was unnerving.

I had done what I did on Elysium for one reason; to start a revolution. I would suffer at the hands of the Elysian government. They would kill my family, but they would make me live for ages. The Medbays had kept alive those who should have been long since dead. One woman had even lived for one hundred and thirty-four years.

"We'll see what your boss has to say when I bring in his little hacka!"

Kruger pulled me to my feet and pushed me back towards the MCK-030211. I stopped hard, keeping my back to Kruger, shielding my face as I asked, "Why did you take me here?"

I felt Kruger's breath on my neck, hot like steam. His armoured chest pressed hard on my back, making me lean forward. "So you could see your sacrifice laying in pieces on the ground, scattered from hea to Mexico..."

I choked back a frightened sob as I stumbled back to the ship. I wouldn't mind dying now. My failure to save innocent people, to save my family, felt too great.

"Alright boys!" Kruger yelled. "Time to go up!"

I was slung back into a seat and fastened tightly. Kruger barked an order at his men as he called someone on his communicator, most likely Secretary Gabriella Delacourt. I had heard of her before. She was described as being as pale as silk, with such icy blue eyes that she could freeze the Serengeti over twice. She was also known to be fiercely democratic, and despised Illegals.

I sobbed quietly, pulling my legs up against my chest. Kruger was taking me back to Elysium and handing me over to the authorities. He knew the fate I was most afraid of; falling between the gnashing teeth of both Delacourts.

Kruger walked silently towards me and, once again, sat opposite to me. "So, pr—"

"Why are you taking me back there?!" The glare I got from Kruger for interrupting him could melt steel. I saw his jaw clench tightly and his eyes widen. I had just kicked the hornet's nest, hard. I flinched against whatever punishment was coming. When no strike came, I cautiously opened my eyes. Kruger was not even looking at me. He was looking at the floor between his feet, brooding, almost.

It seemed impossible, but Agent Kruger had just restrained himself.

I breathed a sigh of relief. It was totally involuntary, and relatively loud, even against the ship's engines. I clamped my mouth shut, wishing I had held my breath. Kruger looked up at me, dirty bangs hanging down across his forehead. His eyes were peculiarly green again. He said nothing and looked down again, a tight smile on his face.

Now that I had a fairly clear mind, due to the fact that I would soon be out of Kruger's grasp and at least back on Elyisum, I realized that he reminded me of a cobra. A serpent you're cautious of, one that you know is deadly, and yet you are mesmerized by it at the same time.

"Why don't you want to go back…?"

Kruger's tone surprised me. It was just a quiet, simple mumble. His fingers clasped together tightly and his hands began to tremble. I was afraid; his erratic behaviour threw me off-guard. One minute, he was all over me and the next, he attacked his own man for touching me. He struck me when I did not respond, but now stood silent when I interrupted him. I hated to admit it to myself; I was beginning to find Kruger interesting, mesmerizing, quite like a fearsome cobra.

"Isn't it…perfect? Up thea?" Kruger finally spoke after a long silence. His apparent calmness was disturbing. The fact that he was behaving like a normal human being, though, allowed me to speak clearly for the first time since being abducted.

"Not really…" I said quietly. I was still in a defensive position, my knees to my chest while my hands were still bound behind my back. They were starting to ache, and I was losing feeling in my arms. I shifted my shoulders uncomfortably as I continued carefully. "The government is corrupt, the people are pricks."

A muffled grunt came from deep in Kruger's throat. If it were anyone else, I would've thought that it was a genuine laugh.

"Entering atmosphere," Crowe's notification sounded from Kruger's radio.

I must've whimpered, for Kruger looked at me with attentive green eyes.

"Why don't you want to go back?" he asked simply, no aggression in his voice.

I looked on nervously. "I want to save people, not despise them…" I whispered quietly. It was true. Elysians were blatantly taught to despise Illegals on Earth. All the propaganda could make a person sick, but gradually, like a tumor.

Kruger nodded. "What kind of people?" I noticed that he had stopped calling me "princess" after every sentence, which was a small comfort because I despised it.

"Everyone who deserves it; the sick, the dying, the innocent…"

"What about the people who don't fall into those categories then, eh?"

I didn't think my next answer through as well as I should have. I glared at Kruger as I spat the words. "Every other vile cretonne can skulk around in the filth as they always have…"

Kruger shifted towards me, his eyes darkened dangerously.

"Is that right? Then I'll show you just how vile I am, princess!" He roared as he lunged towards me, hands outstretched, aiming for my neck. Without thinking, I kicked out, making contact with Kruger's chin, knocking him back momentarily. He was immediately on me. I screamed as he grabbed my legs and slammed them down. His other hand grabbed the back of my head and forced it down. In such an awkward and painful position, I couldn't even struggle. My head was wrenched back. He straddled me, sitting all two hundred and forty pounds of him and his gear on my lap. My neck began to scream in pain the longer he held my head back. I felt his beard scrape along the tender flesh of my exposed neck. I shivered violently against him as Kruger's arms wrapped themselves around me and slither down my back. I heard him whisper, "I can't let you go… I can't…" Kruger grazed his teeth along my jugular, softly biting the tender skin. I cried out softly. I knew what was coming; my throat was about to be ripped out by the most vile creature on planet Earth. I hoped that I would bleed out quickly, so I wouldn't have stare at Kruger's snarling face stained with my own blood.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_Snick_.

I braced for death as Kruger snapped open his switchblade. I felt the blade trace my collarbone slowly. A low growl rumbled in Kruger's throat as he slowly dragged the blade along my neck. If it wasn't the switchblade or Kruger's teeth that killed me, it would be the crushing tension.

"I can't…"

Suddenly, my wrists fell free from their bonds. My eyes snapped open. Kruger was standing over me, no longer crushing me under his weight. Cautiously, I flexed my wrists, the feeling flowing back slowly. I dared to look at Kruger, who stood with his hands clenched in fists, trembling lightly. Once again, it seems as though he had restrained himself from doing something terrible.

Afraid as I was, I felt genuine surprise. I felt the need to make my gratitude apparent, though it revolted me to want to show any kind of gratitude to Kruger. Before I could speak, Tweedy stepped out from the cockpit, looking worse than before. "Boss," he rasped, "now entering Elysium airspace. We'll be at Delacourt's shortly."

"Git the shields up," Kruger barked, "I don't wanna take any chances…"

Tweedy complied, deftly turning the correct controls. I wondered why Kruger would want to put the shields up in a protected airspace. Elysium would never sacrifice their image by shooting down a carrier over the heads of the privileged. Though the government had the people wrapped around their steely fingers, image was everything. Propaganda was hopelessly crammed down throats to keep opinions suffocated. If anyone on Elysium had ever thought for themselves, they would see how weak their government truly was. Still, the fact that Kruger wanted the shields up unnerved me.

We touched down and the ship's door opened. Sweet, warm air washed through the cold ship cabin. After three years of living in the slums, and shivering myself to sleep every night, I was actually pleased to inhale the scent of my home. A waft of alcohol and cigar smoke drifted in front of me. Crowe held a gun pointed towards my face.

"Up you get, sweetheart," he growled, keeping his distance for fear of ending up like his comrade.

I stood slowly, my arms staying behind my back to show that I wasn't about to fight. I was lead first out of the carrier. Crowe walked behind me, keeping me at gunpoint.

I walked out to see the exclusive industrial hanger of the Elysian government. Stark white walls bore the symbol of the Civil Cooperation Bureau. I trembled as I saw three executives standing several feet away from Kruger's ship. Two of them wore stiff black suits and stood on either side of the third. The third stood astute in a snowy white suit, and her skin was as pale as her milky white silk scarf. If there was anyone who defined the image of Elysium, it was Secretary Gabriella Delacourt.

"Bring the prisoner forth." Secretary Delacourt's artificially accented voice rang clear through the hanger, echoing harshly off the stone walls. I was pushed forward by the barrel of Crowe's gun. The fact that I was being regarded as a prisoner enraged me. I felt like a prisoner in Kruger's hands, yes, but at least I was regarded as a human being. Here, under Delacourt's fascist glare, I felt like utter scum.

I was pushed to my knees by the butt of Crowe's gun as Delacourt looked down at me. The rumors were right; I shivered from the icy cold of her glare, the intensity of which made my skin crawl. At this point, I'd prefer the vile Agent Kruger over this icy bitch.

"Well done, Agent 32, you are relieved. We'll take it from here." She continued to look at me with a disdainful glare. I stared fiercely back at her, plastering on all the courage I could muster.

I hadn't noticed that Kruger had walked up to stand beside me, facing Delacourt obediently. He only stared ahead, not even looking down at Delacourt. She glared up at him, dwarfed easily by his sheer size. Despite his size, I had never seen Kruger look so small.

"Yes, Secretary Delacourt," he stated mechanically. I could hear clear spite in his voice as he clenched his hands into fists behind his back. He took a small step back. Delacourt, though not amused with his behaviour and irritated with his presence, continued.

"Protea Angelico," she addressed me by a name I had not been called since I was deported, looking off a lavender form, no doubt made from the finest wood pulp. "Formerly Citizen 3073 of Elysium, you have been charged with theft from the government, and arson of Elysian property on Earth." She turned her full attention to me. "You were deported, your Elysian citizenship suspended. You have family here, _non_?"

The mention of my family flared my attention. Delacourt saw my eyes widen and snapped her fingers once. A door opened from somewhere behind me. I heard feet shuffling across the stone floor. I craned my head to see what I dreaded most; my mother, two young sisters and brother were walked into the hanger, hands bound, at gunpoint. I uttered a soft whimper as my family, four wealthy and refined citizens of Elysium became prisoners before my very eyes.

Just then, four of five armoured men rushed into the hanger, all were led by one in a suit. Their leader was Mark Delacourt, I could tell from the way he carried himself.

"What is the meaning of this, Gabriella?" Mark demanded forcefully, obviously confused as to why, his investigator, was back on Elysium.

"So nice of you to join us, Mark," Delacourt cooed to her husband. "Fortunately, I have everything under control." She snapped her fingers once again and called her bots to action. My youngest sister squealed with terror as an Armadyne security droid clamped its digits around her arm. I couldn't control my outrage seeing her in danger.

"Don't touch her!" I tried to stand, but felt Crowe's strong hand on my shoulder, pushing me down.

"Gabriella, once again, I ask, what is the meaning of this?" Mark's tone was raised as his confusion went unanswered. He looked at me, but addressed his wife. "Why is Protea here?"

"This former citizen has continued to be a nuisance to Elysium from Earth three years after her deportation… Under your orders, am I correct?" Delacourt shot her husband daggers. She wasn't the most ethical government official on Elysium; after all, she used Agent Kruger to do her dirty work. Having her own husband double-cross her in order to continue unauthourized actions behind her back, however, she could not stand for. "She has been brought back to be correctly apprehended."

Mark Delacourt stood dumfounded at the cunning actions of his wife. He didn't bother to vouch for me or my family, he only stood there. My anger towards the politicians of Elysium boiled over. Enraged at the injustice and the treatment of innocent Elysian citizens, my family, gave me an extreme adrenaline rush.

With renewed strength, I lashed backwards with my arms, striking Crowe's hard metal helmet. I knocked him back briefly, but a moment was all I needed as I got to my feet and sprinted towards my family.

My freedom was brief, and the cobra struck. I felt Kruger's talons wrap around my arms tightly, stopping my flight. "Not so fast, princess…" He hugged his arms around me from behind as I cried desperately for my family.

Delacourt had snapped her fingers again. My family was now being lined up. Each one of them was pushed to their knees, with an Armadyne bot aiming a gun at each of their heads.

"Citizens 2998, 3079, 3080 and 3081, your Elysian citizenship has now been formerly revoked under the charge of aiding a criminal of Elysium." Men came by each of them and put a laser to their wrists, removing their identity as a citizen of Elysium. The Medbays could not heal them now.

"NO!" I screamed, struggling desperately against Kruger's grasp. "No, please, no! They're innocent! Don't hurt them, please! Do whatever you want to me, just don't hurt them!"

Delacourt looked straight at me. I couldn't hear her next words. "I intend to."

It happened in an instant, but it felt like an eternity.

Delacourt gave the order to her bots, and they fired. My family dropped one at a time to the cold stone floor, blood streaming from the back of their heads. There was no Medbay on Elysium that could heal them now. My little brother, an innocent boy who would have turned thirteen two months ago, stared at me with glossy eyes, mouthing the words "it's okay" slowly. I saw the life leave them as he fell to the floor. My vision started to blur and my ears began to feel muffled. I heard a faraway screaming, and wondered who it was who was crying so desperately.

I realized it was me.

I could not pry my eyes away from my family as they lay dead on the floor. My vision began to blacken as I felt myself being dragged away. I blacked out, the last picture in my head my family lying dead on the cold, Elysian floor and Secretary Delacourt standing tall with a tight smile on her fiendish, pale lips.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I awoke sitting on the floor, leaning against a standard issue jail cell bed. My arms ached and my head was pounding. All the memories came flooding back almost instantly. My family was killed in front of my eyes. I was in custody of the icy Secretary Delacourt. I was sure to face death row, which was the only solace I found now in my ravaged young life.

A harsh clanging sounded from down the hallway outside my cell. The door opened quietly. After several moments of deliberation, I rose, supporting myself on the bed frame. I heard a sudden crash come from the room beyond. I crawled forward on the floor to the open door, peering cautiously around the corner. There didn't seem to be any Armadyne droids around. Other than a dull beeping sound, the hallway seemed to be deserted. I got to my feet and listened again for the sound. Surely enough, another clang sounded, with more of a thud against stone. A roar of anger sounded shortly thereafter.

Electrified with fear and curiosity, I took my leave of the cell. As I slunk down the hallway, I kept to the wall and low to the ground. Another roar echoed through the hallway and another harsh clang of metal sounded. I looked cautiously around a corner, where a loud growl emanated. It was a guttural sound; one full of anger and pain. I stifled a gasp as I saw something I would have believed impossible, had I not seen it with my own eyes.

Deputy Tweedy stood, glaring down towards the floor, a bloodied katana in his hand. He appeared to be fully healed; he must've slunk away as soon as we reached Elysium to heal himself on a Medbay, the bastard.

On the floor…was Kruger.

My eyes widened as I realized what Tweedy was glaring at. Kruger lay on the floor, beneath the heavy foot of his ex-comrade, who appeared to be hell-bent on gaining revenge. Kruger had such a look of hatred on his battered face that I started to tremble from my hiding place. Tweedy held the end of the long rectangular blade at Kruger's throat. Never before had I seen Kruger so vulnerable; he rightly deserved it, however.

"You know what I'm going to do to your little princess, Kruga?" Tweedy traced the blade along Kruger's face. "I'm gonna cut her up… just like what I'm about to do to you…" Tweedy pressed the blade to Kruger's cheek, and drew out a long slash on both. Kruger didn't flinch at all; one could almost admire his stillness and control. He glowered at Tweedy with eyes as black as voids. "You know, Kruga," Tweedy continued. "I almost died under your tyranny, you miserable fuck. But look at me now!" He leaned down close, baring his teeth at Kruger, who still glowered. "I'm gonna go fuck your little pretty while you bleed out and watch…"

In one surprisingly fluid movement, Tweedy grabbed Kruger by the neck and slammed him against the wall. Kruger's head hit the wall with such impact that cracks appeared behind it. Kruger looked as if he was about to pass out. I believed Kruger was the devil incarnate, and that he could not feel pain, but seeing him here now, I almost felt pity.

"_Adios_, you filthy bastard."

Tweedy plunged the katana into Kruger's chest, slicing expertly between the ribs. I stifled another shocked gasp, desperately trying to tear my eyes away from the violence. It was like watching a cobra fighting a mongoose; both frighteningly vicious, and willing to fight to the death. The most terrifying thing about this situation was that I found myself silently aching for the cobra to win.

Kruger sputtered violently, blood spewing forth from his lips and running through his beard. I heard the blade clang against the stone wall on the other side of Kruger's body. Tweedy smiled cruelly, Kruger's blood on his face, as he twisted the blade in his commander's chest. "Where is that little _princess_ of yours?"

Tweedy stalked away from Kruger, but not before delivering a vicious hook to his already battered complexion. Kruger slumped forward, grasping the blade's handle as blood poured from his face, pooling on the floor.

My attention turned back to Tweedy, who was approaching my cell. I noticed for the first time that he had some sort of metal apparatus attached to his chest and arms. His strength must have come from that; it would have explained how he cracked the wall with Kruger's skull and dragged him up from the floor so quickly.

I scrambled around the corner where I was hiding, looking around desperately for a hiding place. I shuffled on my knees towards a covered section of the hallway, holding my breath, hoping I would go unnoticed. I held my breath for dreadfully long moments. Tweedy suddenly rounded the corner and roared, "Surprise, bunny!"

As Tweedy opened his mouth, the very blade he had used to lacerate Kruger with moments ago, now protruded from his mouth like a bizarre metal tongue. The blade retracted as quickly as it had appeared and made a cutting motion through the air. It barely made a noise as the blade cut through the tender flesh of Tweedy's exposed neck. The deputy hung in the air for several seconds before his head began to slide off his shoulders. His head hit the ground in front of me with a soft thud.

I sat, petrified beyond my wits as I stared, mouth gaping back at Tweedy's own gaping mouth. Blood seeped out from the head's chubby face, pooling on the floor. I could see my own reflection in the scarlet puddle. I did not recognize the young woman who stared back at me.

"Prick…"

Kruger dropped to his knees just behind his deputy's decapitated body, a bloody katana in his hand. He fell forward, defeated.

What I did next would shock anyone, but it stupefied me most of all.

Against all of my instincts, I crawled forward to the dying cobra's side. I quickly examined Kruger's wounds and injuries. I had not realized the full extent of his injuries. It was a true marvel as to how he was still alive after Tweedy had punished him so harshly, let alone the fact that he was able to decapitate his comrade in one fluid movement. He should have died as soon as the katana punctured his heart.

In my three years on Earth, I had learned how to treat my own injuries and those who came to me for help. I was no doctor, but I could save a life. I did not yet know if the decision to save Kruger's life was the right one.

I leaned down to listen if Kruger was still breathing. I waited a long time before I heard a quick, raspy gasp for air. Without any fight from him, I rolled Kruger onto his side. He was surprisingly light without his armour, or perhaps it was due to the massive amount of blood that he lost. The entry wound where the katana had twisted was gaping. Blood was seeping out slowly, so I knew that no critical artery had been severed. Internal bleeding was obvious and Kruger would die shortly.

Once again, I debated whether or not I should save him. He was a murderer who worked for the scum of Elysium. Then I remembered that he had saved my dignity, and my life, twice, from the same predator.

My pity for him eventually won out over my morals. My family was dead, and I wanted out of Elysium. Kruger was the only one who could get me back to Earth.

I tore off a long piece of the cheap material I wore as a prison jumpsuit. I jammed it up against Kruger's chest wound and wound another around it. He winced, which induced a flinch from me. After he sighed gently and didn't react further, I carried on bandaging him. I rearranged his battered person into recovery position. I had no idea how much longer he would live. I had to hurry.

I took a small knife from Kruger's belt for protection against human security. Leaving him lying in there, I sprinted down the hallway, listening desperately for the recognizable hum of an Elysian Medbay. I had no idea if it would work for Kruger, however. He was a citizen of Earth, technically, but an agent for the Civil Cooperation Bureau. There was a chance one would heal him.

I found one in the jail keeper's office, which was occupied by one guard. The lack of security in this place was ludicrous, but I guess no time is wasted looking after prisoners when there is champagne to drink and candles to smell.

The lone guard was facing away from me, unaware of my presence. I crept up quietly to the glass door, opening it with ease after quickly picking the lock with the knife. I crouched low to the ground, like a predator stalking its prey, hungry for the kill.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Gripping the knife tightly, I grabbed the guard's mouth to stifle his yell and cranked his head with all my might while I sliced in the opposite direction with the knife. Bright red blood spurted out of the guard's neck. I couldn't wait around to guarantee the guard's silence, but I was sure he would bleed out quickly.

With the guard incapacitated, I dashed to the Medbay, feverishly prepping it for Kruger's weakened body. As I raced back down the hallway, I realized grudgingly that I would have to drag him. I considered once again leaving Kruger to die, and once again, my moral compass changed directions. When I reached the spot where I left Kruger, I found only found Tweedy's decapitated body. Confused, I glanced around, wondering if an android had taken him away. If the humanoids had been through, they would have taken Tweedy's body as well. Still slightly appalled at how lax the security was in an Elysian jail, I searched the area again. Looking past the mangled body of Tweedy, my eyes found a trail of blood leading toward the prison cell where I awoke.

Cautiously, I crept forward, trying my best to step around the blood flooding the corridor. I heard a light wheezing sound coming from within the cell. A sort of exhilaration struck me when I peered around the corner.

Astoundingly, Kruger sat propped up against the post of the bed, one arm wrapped around his midsection, keeping pressure on his wounds. He didn't look at me as I whispered gently, "Come on, I found a Medbay for you." I gingerly pressed my hand against his shoulder, wary that he might lash out, even in his treacherous state. I only heard a low, pained rumble in response. Without saying anything, I gently grasped Kruger's arm, stooping low in order to sling it over my shoulders. After his stunning show of endurance, I knew he would be able to make it to the Medbay, against all odds. The only thing that would take a long time to heal would be his pride.

With the brunt of Kruger's weight balanced on my shoulders, I lifted upwards with all my might. Kruger's deadweight was heavy, and I had trouble supporting him.

Feeling no fear above the sense of urgency, I snapped, "Stand on your own feet, Kruger. I can't do this myself."

The weak and weary Kruger looked at me through his peripheral vision. I could tell he was angry. Not only was he in a submissive position to me, he could do nothing about it. I hoped that my sacrifice would not result in my head on the end of a katana.

"Fuck you," I grumbled, irritated that he could not show the slightest bit of gratitude. "I'm trying to help you, you fucker… Now stand."

Too exhausted, to fight, Kruger complied. His legs straightened and he was now mostly on his own feet. I started to walk forward slowly, making sure Kruger was still standing firm.

When he stood, the tourniquet I had fashioned had come loose around Kruger's ribs. I pressed hard against the wound, keeping as much pressure on it as I could as we stumbled forward. I ignored Kruger's hiss of pain as I pressed on his wound. He deserved every bit of pain I could inflict upon him, even if it was unintentional.

We continued down the hallway towards the Medbay in silence. I felt the need to say something to Kruger. Perhaps, in his weakened state, I would be able to articulate my thoughts without fear of punishment.

"You know, Kruger," I began, speaking quietly, almost embarrassed. "I wanted to ask you something." I waited for a response as we continued towards the Medbay. When I heard a grunt from Kruger's hanging head, I took it as a response to continue. "Why did you save me? From Tweedy, I mean…"

A long pause ensued. "I couldn't…" Kruger's voice was weak. He didn't have a lot of time left. "I couldn't let… let him hurt you… princess."

The tiniest whisper emanated from Agent Kruger's lips. Had I not been in such a position of holding his life I my hands, I would've spat in Kruger's face for being so full of shit. Though, I knew undoubtedly, that he was being truthful. I could hear the honesty behind the pain in his voice. Minutes form death, Agent Kruger was a human being.

The way he called me "princess" no longer felt like an insult, but a genuine compliment. I didn't want to reveal to Kruger that I was stupefied by his response, so I turned my face away from his, hiding my blush.

We reached the Medbay in silence. Now came the difficult part of getting Kruger onto the flat medical apparatus. I awkwardly shifted my weight beneath his arm. I was able to lower Kruger onto the Medbay while still holding his wound.

"Can you take off your jacket?" I asked stupidly. He only glared at me with dull eyes. I nodded and unzipped his coat. I could see the wound clearly now. It was much worse than I had suspected. The wound would not heal properly without the aid of the Medbay. I only hoped that it would work, and that I was not on the wrong end of Kruger's conscious when he awoke.

Easing off his jacket, I tried to keep pressure on the wound. I pressed my finger against the side of Kruger's neck, checking for a pulse. Deep within him, I felt the faintest beat of a dying heart, trying desperately to stay alive. Why he had lived this long, there was no explanation. I knew he was holding on for a reason. What that reason was, I hadn't a clue.

I laid Kruger down on the bed. I felt the last of his strength in the form of strong fingers grasping onto my sleeve for support. I felt a tugging at my sleeve as I was working at the control panel. I looked to find Kruger staring up at me with dull, green eyes. For the first time since being captured, I saw Kruger as truly human.

"Get outta hea, pr… Protea…"

A remarkable wave of awe flooded through me as I heard Agent Kruger call me by my actual name. I could only look down at him, not knowing what to say at a moment like this. In this astounding moment in time, one where I was about to heal the predator who had kidnapped me, I felt a strange sense of compassion for the mesmerizing cobra. I told myself that not of it was true. Kruger was being a cunning liar, playing a dangerous sympathy card so he would heal and rise again, only to kill me as soon as he did. However strongly I told myself this, I didn't believe it.

I tensed, deciding once and for all.

I hit the button, and commenced Kruger's healing.

As I dreaded, the machine did not start. A notification appeared on the screen saying that no citizen of Elysium was detected. I let out a cry of anger and desperation. Fueled by urgency and adrenaline, I dragged the security guard's body over to the Medbay, where Kruger was now rasping quickly and shallowly. I pulled the guard over to the Medbay with all my remaining strength. With my knife, I sliced the sleeve of his shirt off, revealing the wrist that contained the genetic proof of his Elysian citizenship. I lugged the guard's arm up onto the table, on top of Kruger's. The machine immediately recognized the guard's genetic tags, and began to process his damage report. The machine started, only briefly touching the guard before I pulled him away.

A soft yellow light enveloped Kruger's body, turning the dark scarlet blood into a vibrant crimson. I watched as Kruger's bloodied face and bare chest were cast in a vibrant glow. The sleek looking arm passed above his body. Floating particles of light glittered across Kruger's tattered flesh, slowly stitching his wounds together. In a few minutes, the healing was completed.

I stood holding my breath, wary of Kruger's reaction. Sometimes, when patients awoke, they were extremely violent for a few seconds. Even without his weapons, a frenzied Kruger could easily snap my neck with his bare hands. I gripped the knife in my hand, ready to defend myself against the newly rejuvenated Kruger.

When nothing happened, I cautiously leaned over the sleeping Kruger. It was like watching a sleeping tiger. Every muscle in my body was tense, every nerve on fire, ready to flee.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 I stood, peering at Kruger from a safe distance. His face was clean for the first time, his beard tidy, and his complexion calm. If under any other circumstances, I would have found Kruger attractive. His lean build, high cheekbones, and large, intelligent eyes would have made any woman's knees weak. In fact, my own trembling with barely enough strength to stay locked. As I was looking at Kruger, I failed to notice the guard slump forward and begin inching towards his desk. The brief exposure to the Medbay had healed him enough that he could crawl forward and hit the emergency button beneath his desk. Alarms started to sound in the corridor. Frantically, I knocked the guard's head against the corner of the desk with a well-aimed, high-powered kick. The guard fell to the ground, finally dead. I grabbed the gun from his belt and a remote I quickly established was a skeleton key to all the doors leading in and out of this place. With some luck on my side, I decided to flee. I would leave Kruger. I no longer cared about what happened to him now, feeling I had fulfilled my debt to him. As I turned to leave, I felt a strong hand grasp my wrist. Electricity shot through me. My instincts alighted. Vision blurry and red, I wheeled around, viciously slashing through the air with my knife. I felt the gun drop out of my hand and clatter on the floor. Another hand caught my knife wielding hand, and I was immobilized. My eyes began to focus on my incessant and hounding fear staring back at me with a blank, hardened face. Kruger's grimace let me know I was in trouble for my earlier display of insolence. I couldn't help it anymore. I snapped. "What will you do, Kruger?!" Fear evaporated from me. They would kill me for certain, if I was lucky. Fight or flight kicked in, and I had to flee. Now. "Well?! What's it gonna be, swine!" Kruger only glared, holding onto me. He was stalling. My escape time was dwindling. "I just saved your sorry arse! The least you could do is give me a fucking head start!" I glowered at him, no longer feeling like the coward I was this morning. My bravery must've caught Kruger off-guard, for he loosened his grip ever so slightly. That was all I needed to wrench my hand out of his and take off. Gaining my balance, I began to sprint down the hallway, past my cell and beyond. I pressed the button of the skeleton key remote, and sure enough, the door opened. I dashed through, slowing slightly in order to listen for approaching androids. Suddenly, my mouth was clamped shut from behind. I was dragged behind a corner. I kicked and fought, hard, but it was no use. As I struggled, I saw several security droids jog past me and my attacker. With one final buck of my body, I was freed from the arms of my captor. I dove for the throat of whoever it was that caught me, hell-bent on the kill. Expertly, I pinned the assailant to the wall, my knife at their throat. Dark green eyes stared back at me, totally unafraid. Exhale. "Fucker…" Kruger stared back at me from behind my knife, an interested expression on his smug face. "I knew I liked you for a reason, princess," he swaggered. The tip of my knife pressed on his jugular. I was in no mood to be fucked around with. "Try anything and I'll make sure you stay dead." Kruger only smiled amusedly at my death-threat. I released him, concerned with worse threats on my tail. I peered around the corner, looking for security droids. The alarms were still sounding, and a flashing red light emanated through the hallway. I looked back over my shoulder to check Kruger. He had his new katana in his hand, stroking it like a silvery serpent. "I'm gonna rule this place…" I murmured menacingly. "She has to die. Today." I said it as a statement, so no communication errors occurred between me and the cobra. Surprisingly, Kruger nodded solemnly. Perhaps it was the sudden lust for power I had felt since I saw my family killed. Seeing my family die under the hands of the government made me utterly despise Elysium, more so than I had before. I wanted to rule everyone in this bloody paradise, starting with Secretary Delacourt. "You're gonna help me." I made my demand perfectly clear to Kruger. A ruthless killer, but an agent, nonetheless. His jaw clenched. Anything could happen now, but it was what happened next that I couldn't predict. Kruger looked at me blankly; the only hint of an expression was a slight sneer tugging at the corners of his lips, disappearing into his beard. He locked his eyes with mine, then he nodded. Breathing a sigh of relief and after checking once again around the corner, I loped down the hallway. Kruger's heavy footsteps were surprisingly stealthy behind me. Rounding a corner, I almost slammed into a security droid. Before either of us could react, the droid's head had slipped off its metallic shoulders. It clattered to the ground. Jumping over its corpse, I continued to jog down the corridor. Listening for sounds of people screaming, I honed in on the CCB central control room. I had to admit to myself that I was impressed with Kruger. With his killer instinct directed away from me, Kruger was a sight to behold. He truly was a spectacular soldier. The only grievance was that he worked for Delacourt, though now I was skeptical as to where his loyalties lay. "Hea, princess, take his." Kruger handed me a non-specialized handgun, the kinds I was used to using. "It's got t'a kick to it." Kruger thought that I was helpless with a gun because I was from Elysium, wasn't it? That's what he thinks… I thought with contempt. "I think I can handle myself if I've made it this far, thanks very much." I couldn't help but snap at him. The smug look he's had on his face since he awoke annoyed the hell out of me. Sirens continued to blare as we reached the end of the corridor. Another security droid aimed at us. I raised my new weapon and fired at it, hoping to distract the droid while I got to cover. It wasn't a standard bullet that fired from my handgun, but a barrage of them. About a thousand bullets glinted through the air and struck the bot, dismembering it before it hit the ground. The gun smoked, and my mouth gaped. I turned to look at Kruger, who had a silly smile plastered on his face. "Told you so," he chuckled sarcastically. I sneered at him, not wanting to let him know that I was amused at his change in behavior. The sneer hid my smile beautifully. "The central control room is just down here, I recognize these hallways," I noted. Kruger looked questioningly at me. I was just as surprised as he was to hear those words. I couldn't remember all of it, but from what I did piece together, was that I had in fact been here before. It was like déjà vu; a feeling you're unable to place but entirely instinctive and true. I let my instincts lead the way through the winding, metal corridors. I had been jogging ahead of Kruger slightly, not noticing that he had been lagging. if not for the adrenaline and urgency, I would've kept the knife poised just so behind me as a warning. I knew this man was volatile; a bomb waiting to go off. I just couldn't shake this feeling I had. A bold feeling. A longing feeling… "No need for that, princess." I felt Kruger's hand grasp mine that was holding the gun. I realized with a shock I had a white knuckle grip on the trigger guard, with my finger trembling dangerously close to the trigger. He removed the gun from my belt, lowering the barrel forward and toward the floor. "Be a shame to waste such a prize…" Sizzling for a moment, I ripped my hand away. "Fuck you." With a snort, he trotted ahead of me, glancing quickly around each corner. It took me a moment to realize through the feverish electricity that Kruger had saved me again. If I had even accidentally touched the trigger of my weapon, my legs would have been blown off. A prize! My brow furrowed in discontent. Is that what I am to him? I was good at riddles, but this enigma was beyond my comprehension. Why was it that around this man, all my judgment was skewed? It was infuriating. What was even more so, was the dead end I found myself at. Kruger came to a halt in front of me, looking down a single corridor. At the end was a hatch of some sort, not the central control room to the CCB. "What…" I stammered confusedly. Staring ahead of me, I glanced around, looking for any other possible way to go. There were none. I approached the door and tapped it with the edge of my blade. Hopelessness tunneled my vision. Despair clouded my thoughts and blanched my face. My stomach churned menacingly. I was trapped once again. Would I never be free? An enraged wail escaped my throat, several times, from deep in my gut. Kruger looked at me as I wept shameless tears, almost unnerved. My back slid gracefully down the wall as I sunk to the floor. Shivering, huddled against the cold metal, I wept for my freedom now so far gone. "Just kill me…" All hope had since evaporated from my adrenalin state. I just wanted to be dead. Please, I silently begged Kruger, just finish this. He only stood there, looking down at me, then looking at the hatch, then back. Dark waves lapped at the edges of my mind, inviting me to wade in, to give myself over to their suffocating grace. Ages passed before either of us said anything. "Delacourt can wait." I barely had time to register what Kruger said before I heard the scraping metal of the security droids' feet against the floor. They were upon us in minutes, trampling down the hallway like a herd of mechanical bulls. Before I knew what was happening, glaring sunlight hit me like a tractor beam, blinding me momentarily. Then, strong arms scooped me up from the floor and hurled me through the air, into the light. 


	8. Chapter 8 (pt1)

*Author's note: Apologies for the long wait and for the formatting of chapter 7! Text blocks are annoying. Story is still in progress and there will be many more chapters, hopefully! Thank you for your patience and understanding. Regards – CS*

Chapter 8 (part 1)

Falling from a height of three hundred feet would be terrifying to anybody. Though here, wind whistling past my ringing ears, it felt liberating.

I tumbled downward towards the Elysian terra. Sunlight glared off the metallic building behind me, continually blinding me on the way down to my death. _I'll be with you soon_, I thought of my family as a tear streamed out of my eye and skywards. _This will feel so good…_

Closing my eyes, I let myself blur over. No sense in being conscious when I hit the ground. I twirled gracefully onto my back, as if held by heavenly hands. I settled into a relaxed, reclined position as imitated gravity brought me to the artificial ground.

The feeling of freedom lasted for all of four seconds.

Talon-like hands raked across my arms, grasping them in a vice grip. My trajectory was thrown off as I was flung against a broad chest. Like an infant chimp, my arms curled around his body as the wind raced along with my heart.

The last thing I remembered was Kruger throwing me out the hatch. I remember falling forever. In fact, I didn't remember anything. Everything before the point of now was fuzzy, blurry, like water in your eye. I tried to blink the haze in my mind away, but to no avail.

Gradually, consciousness returned to me. The first thing I noticed was the hum of Elysium; a dull noise that was not entirely irritating, but comforting, due to the fact that it meant fresh air was constantly being produced. The next thing I noticed was the rustle of palm leaves in the wind. The calm reminded me of home, though I didn't know which one. What was home if I had no one?

First things first; where am I, and how did I get here?

The haziness drifted off me lazily like steam, easing me into awareness. I became aware of a repetitive sound. A deep, relaxed rhythm that was not my own, though it may as well have been due to its synchrony.

Deep breathing. Sleep.

In and out… In and out…

My senses told me I was leaning against something living. My gut told me it was a predator.

Fresh electricity shot through my system. I was prepared to feel the need to flee, to run, as I had the last three years of my life. I waited for the jolt to spread through my muscles, alighting them with the energetic fire used to run from danger.

But it never came.

Even after dreadfully long moments, it never came.

I leaned forward ever so slowly, my neck arcing gracefully up to gaze at the only thing I was perpetually afraid and fascinated by.

He lay quietly, truly asleep. A deep relaxed slumber, leaning on the ground against a palm trunk. No muscles were tensed, no fight engorging the vessels of his temples.

Peace was finally with the cobra.

I stared, eyelids still heavy, mind still hazy. I was suddenly aware of how dreadfully tired I was.

Kill him. Walk away. Vanish.

This would be my only chance to kill him correctly, to make him dead forever. One expert slice with my knife right across the jugular. He would bleed out before he would wake up. My knife was secure in my boot, the handle beckoning my hand and the blade glinting insistently in the sunlight.

This chance to kill was irresistible. Every nerve in my body burned with the need to satisfy this perpetually inconsistent feeling. I needed this, whatever it was.

The knife floated up to his bare, unguarded throat. It hovered above the flesh just below the thick, brown beard. Muscles gently contracted as he breathed, totally unaware.

I stared longer still, my shoulder still resting against his chest. I'm not sure if it was gravity, or if it was some other force, but I was being tied down by invisible strings. My arm was still raised above my head, the knife gently pinned against Kruger's throat. The cold of the metal must have disturbed his sleep, for he stirred ever so slightly beneath the blade.

My breath caught in my throat, hitching at the tension in the air crackling with electricity. Jaw clenched, I waited for him to wake, knife poised.

Finally, I watched as his eyelids fluttered open, lazily blinking away the sleep. He had long, thick eyelashes that shadowed his eyes, pale green in the morning sunlight. They looked at me intently, sleep still lining them. His lips barely moved as he spoke, "Glad to see you still hea, princess…"

I pondered. Come to think of it, I couldn't feel my body. Experimentally, I tried to lift my leg, or even bend it. I could not. I twisted my hips to the side, but found I could not manage the slightest twitch.

"What did you do… to me?" My voice cracked as a hoarse accusation escaped my lips. I couldn't move my legs, and I knew something had happened to me. Kruger happened to me.

"Nothing much," he answered simply.

"Liar."

"You landed on your hip. Probably broke y' pelvis. Don't try to move, eh? It'll hurt."

Ignoring his caution, I stared intently at his stillness. It was eerie to think that he hadn't tried anything while I was no doubt unconscious. The last few hours had begun to blur together. Little pieces began to come back to me.

Agent Kruger captured me and brought me to Elysium. Gabriella Delacourt was there, and she ordered the androids to kill my family…

_My family._

Just the thought of them dead sent me spiraling into a batch of fresh tears. I sobbed hard into Kruger's shoulder; I didn't know what else to do. My body shook, sending jolts of pain from my abdomen through my body. I cried from physical pain and psychological pain. It was all too much to bear right now.

I had no home.

I had no family.

I was crying like an infant at the hands of my most certain doom.

Salty tears soon formed a dark spot on Kruger's shirt, blending in with the camouflage pattern. That instinctive part of me that had been telling me to flee still whispered a warning, though it was staring in wonder at the source of danger. Kruger wasn't attacking, or holding me hostage, or even glaring at me. In fact, he wasn't doing anything. I could sense no vicious intent or danger in the air. He was still.

I couldn't decide which Kruger was scarier.

But then again, who knew how many there were.

A hand rested on my arm. A soft touch, but nonetheless, I felt a buzz of adrenaline. Another soon followed, and at tugged me gently, embracing me. I felt Kruger rest his chin on my head.

"Rest. They can't get you now…" His soft voice surprised me once again. I imagined his eyes; pale green.

"Why are you doing this…?" I barely found the strength to whisper. Curiosity burned deep inside me.

"I told you… I couldn't let them hurt you, Protea…"

There it was again. My name. "Why," I sighed, trying to control my breathing from sobbing so hard. I found myself nudging further into his almost humanly warmth.

Sleep began to fog the edges of my mind, creating a translucent vignette of comforting blackness. Perhaps I was just too tired, or maybe I had given up on life, on defending myself or my honour. I had no one to get back to. I had nothing.

"I don't—" Kruger choked. _Was that a stammer?_ Silence ensued. I closed my eyes. "I don't fully know… actually…" There was a moment of reflection, of thought so deep I could feel it in my own chest.

I didn't need to see his deeply furrowed brow and clenched jaw to know he was having a moment of personal turmoil. I felt him tentatively dip his chin in a mild gesture of defeat.

The allure of sleep beckoned seductively. I didn't want to drop my guard, however much there was, just yet; I still couldn't distinguish if this was reality or not.

Maybe the only place where I felt safe lying next to Agent Kruger was a dream. Who knows?

"What will they do if they find you?" My own voice sounded tiny, hollow, a ghost of its former self. _Kind_ _of like me._

A soft chuckle came from above my head. "Probably just a de-activation orda, coz they know I fok'n hate it…" he trailed off into a growl at the thought of his commanding officers. It was easy to tell that Kruger didn't appreciate the thought of being someone's bitch to activate and deactivate at whim. I imagined he loved to be front and center, killing things of all sorts.

The thought made me shudder that I was now falling asleep against a serial murderer. Even a physical tremor sent jolts of pain from my now broken pelvis. I still couldn't remember completely what happened. I winced at the pain.

"Whoa, whoa, relax…" A hand meant for crushing throats stroked my hair. "We'll get you fixed up soon…"

This was exhilarating. I don't know what it was exactly, but everything that had happened, was happening, in the dwindling Elysian day was incredible in a morbidly exciting way. I think the thing that was most incredible was Kruger's paradigm shift from predator to what seemed to be protector. Here I lay, with a broken pelvis, totally vulnerable… And he barely lifts a finger. Perhaps it has taken all his physical strength to restrain himself from doing whatever he originally planned on doing to me earlier that day.

I asked the million dollar question just before sleep overtook me. "Why am I still alive?" I waited for an answer for all of about three seconds. I dove into a much needed sleep, black waves gently lapping, lulling me into a deep slumber. I dreamt of cobras with bright green eyes basking lazily in the sun.


	9. Chapter 8 (pt2)

*Author's note – I am very proud to have reached 1000 read! To mark this milestone, I present a double length, p.o.v. flip! Enjoy!*

Chapter 8 (part 2) KRUGER

_A single ray of light shone through the inky darkness of death. He had felt this sensation before, the feeling of rejuvenation; the feeling of life after death. _

I awoke to the sound of alarms bleeping madly.

_Where the fuck am I?_

There was commotion somewhere beside me; a struggle of sorts. There was a crack of bone hitting metal and breaking on impact. Highly tuned ears picked up the sound of bleeding life from an unlucky victim. _Too bad that wasn't mine_, I thought a little jealously. Only I did the killing around here. If anyone else thought they were good enough to claim this territory, they were rivals. Earth was mine.

_Wait…_ I realized in a split second that I wasn't on Earth, but on Elysium. _How the fuck did I get here, again? _This amnesia didn't make sense. Nothing did right now.

I heard a light gasping beside me, and a labored breathing not of a man. I imagined the scenario from what I could see in my peripheral, three-sixty vision.A girl who looked no older than thirty had a knife in her hand and a gun in the other. She was moving in slow motion, just like everything was. She looked familiar, but I couldn't remember why.

With newfound strength, I hauled my carcass up from whatever platform I was on. In an expert stride, I caught the girl's wrist with a hand that didn't even feel like my own. As soon as I touched her, I could feel a strange warmth spread through my body. This feeling was alien to me. Maybe it was a side effect of the amnesia; a restless feeling in my gut and an anxious longing feeling.

Clearly, the girl didn't feel the same.

A knife came flying through the air, straight at my temple. In my peripheral vision, and I avoided it with the ease of second nature. I caught her wielding hand with trained precision, lowering it with more strength than I intended. The girl glared at me, but not before cursing loudly. She shot daggers at me. Her pretty amber eyes were filled with her dilated pupils. Underneath all that anger was another, dominant emotion. It was a look I saw often when people saw me; pure fear.

I tried hard to remember who she was, but no recognition came. I could feel my face grimace in confusion and annoyance. She tried to wrench her hand free.

"What will you do Kruger?! Well? What's it gonna be?"

Her anger surprised me. In her anger, I recognized something about her. It was the way her lip curled up to reveal her teeth; it looked like me when I snarled.

_I know you, girl… _

She took the opportunity when I was pondering to rip her hand free and bolt away. I was left sitting on what I could now distinguish was a Medbay. _Did I die recently_?

It all came flooding back in a violent rush.

_Protea._

The single name rang in my head louder than the alarms sounding now. I bolted after her. My keen sense of hearing picked up the sounds of approaching Armadyne bots. Those tin cans would tear her to shreds. I had to stop her somehow.

Just before she rounded a corner, I pounced on her, grasping her tightly in my arms and covering her mouth. She'd hate me, I know, but I just didn't care. I dragged her back away from the view of the bots, who then barreled by. _Stupid security tinker toys…_

The girl bucked out of my hands and before I knew it, I had a knife to my throat. I could feel the ridged blade pressing into my flesh. I didn't want to admit that I was scared by her ferocity, but I certainly was turned on.

A smirk must've crossed my face, for she spat at it. "Fucker," she hissed, lowering the knife. _Oh_ _boy_, _I like it when you talk dirty… _I wanted to take her right now, I easily could. But part of me felt like it was chained up. There was something about her that was different than any Elysian girl I had seen before, let alone any other girl. She was different than the others.

She murmured a threat about to Delacourt, swearing revenge for her fallen family. I nodded intermittently, to look like I was listening to her, and not transfixed on the curve of her neck so deliciously vulnerable. I listened, mildly amused, until she turned to look at me with fierce gold-brown eyes. "You're gonna help me."

What did she mean by that? _She wants me to help her take down Delacourt?_ I couldn't let her kill my commanding officer. _That's a no-no_, I thought, _who would pay me bills then? _

I had to admit, though, the icy bitch did need to be taught a lesson. Protea had a look on her face that screamed murder. I was impressed at her tenacity, but here was no way that her revenge would ever come to fruition. I wanted to say something. That part of me that _didn't_ want to do things to her was forefront in my mind, coaching me to turn away. She seemed utterly transfixed, however.

To humour her, I nodded to an extent I thought was genuine. She took it as an answer and ran off down the hall again.

_I wish she'd stop doing that_, I mentally snarled as I jogged after her, _she's gonna run straight into one of those—_

As if on cue, an Armadyne bot rounded the corner. Its gun was aimed straight at Protea's head.

Everything slowed.

Raising my new sword, I sliced clean through the bot's neck. _Damn_. This Elysian metal sure was something to be envied. Its head clattered to the ground as Protea leapt gracefully over its body.

Life resumed its normal pace.

I didn't know how long she would keep this up for. Still being active according to Elysium, I had no choice but to stay with her. I hated being under control all the time, especially when I wasn't killing things, but it paid well. Looking around, I checked the map on my device. There was no where she could go from here. She would be trapped if she continued on this path. She would trap herself. Then I'd pick up where I left off and take her to Delacourt to finish the job I was sent to do…

_Righ_t?

I didn't have time to think right now. Shifting my katana into one hand, I unlatched my berserker handgun with the other. I had a moment of wonder. What could the girl do with a weapon like this? It was standard issue, but to high ranking mercenary agents. Curiosity peaking, I handed the gun to her, somewhere deep in my gut finding the courage to trust her not to turn it on me.

"Careful," I warned, "it's got quite t'a kick to it." Berserker guns were my favourite. Sending out thousands of bullets instead of one got the job done so much quicker. However, I still preferred my knife to anything else.

The next bot that came around the corner got a mouthful of the specialty ammunition. I nearly doubled over in laughter when I saw Protea's face when she turned around. She only sneered at me when I smirked widely at her. _You're quite adorable when you're confused_, I thought gleefully. Something about her just then shifted from pure hatred to something else. Amusement, maybe? I wasn't very good at emotions…

She mumbled something. I looked at her questioningly, for I didn't hear what she said. I don't think it mattered, because she ran off down the hall _again_.

_Oi, oi, little lady…_ I sighed as I jogged after her. Keenly aware of her tension, I saw that her hands were tightly clutching the berserker gun. The barrel was aimed right down her hip. With her luck, she'd probably blow off her own legs before I ever had a chance to get between them.

_Can't let that happen._ In a gesture I thought was kind, I lowered the gun for her. I was met with such hostility I couldn't help grit my teeth in anger. How insolent she was behaving. It took all my physical strength not to pin her by her throat to the ceiling.

I stalked off down the corridor, face flushing red with frustration. The taste of blood washed over my tongue as I realized I was biting the inside of my cheeks.

_Damned girl…_

Luckily, the dead end at the end of the corridor diverted my attention from the antagonizing girl. This was the place I knew she would end up. This was the trap, and she knew it.

Protea examined the corridor that led to nowhere. She looked at the hatch-like door that stood about four feet high, set in the middle of the wall. It was a silly, standard issue escape hatch, essentially. Elysians were _stupid_ enough that they never considered making a decent one because they were _arrogant_ enough to think they'd never need one. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the CCB's security system. I had seen better security at a pub.

Protea, however, did not reflect my distain. Instead, she took to foolishly wailing as loud as possible, sending out a beacon for the security droids. My face screwed up in a startled position.

Normally, I was used to the sound of weeping women; it was just part of my job. But seeing Protea cry these desperate tears…

_What is happening to me?_

When I looked at my device, it indicated that the hatch lead nowhere. _How fucking useful is that, then?!_ Goddamn Elysium.

"Just kill me…"

I stiffened at the girl's words. There was so much desperation in them. She sounded so tired of everything…

I thought hard about what she had wanted me to do earlier. She _wanted_ me to _help_ her kill Delacourt for killing her family. She wanted to take over Elysium, with _my _help. Why did she persist on staying just within my reach, but so far out of it? What was it about her that made me so unsure of myself? And why did I want to keep her safe?

I sighed deeply, knowing I was forever going to regret what I was about to do.

"Delacourt can wait."

Just as a herd of Armadyne bots tumbled around the corner, I ripped open the escape hatch door with newfound strength. Sunlight shone in through the little door overlooking all of Elysium.

_This is gonna be a long way down…_

I dove for the mesmerizing girl, already curled up. I scooped her into my arms, and before she registered what was happening, flung her out the hatch. I shot the Armadyne tinker toys the bird before diving head-first out the open hatch after Protea.

I had been trained to fall. Piloting the Raven, I had to know what to do in case of an emergency evacuation. Falling was the easy part; landing hurt like a bitch.

My trajectory was straight down. Expertly, I pulled my arms to my sides and shot forward, getting closer to the falling Protea. When I was close enough, I spun her around in the air. She was unconscious, but she found enough strength to cling to my chest as we barreled through the sky some two hundred feet above the ground.

Desperately, I pulled at a tab on my breastplate. It had to be the parachute. There was a fleeting moment of terror when I tugged at it. If my instincts weren't right, gravity would pile drive me into the ground _through_ Protea. At least, if I died this way, I'd finally get under her skin.

I braced when I gave a final yank. I heard the chute billow open. My arm slung protectively around Protea and locked in a vice grip. The parachute billowed pathetically as we sailed through the air like a bullet. It didn't deploy correctly. _Fuck_.

With fevered urgency, I spied a swimming pool large enough to host a small country and bucked my body in its direction. With what little fabric had deployed as the chute, I was able to aim straight for the water. I channeled all my remaining energy into holding onto the girl.

Even though we were headed for water, this landing would break bones, I knew that much. At the very last second, I twisted in the air so that Protea was above me.

'Brace for impact.'

The water felt like ice; cold and solid. In my head, I heard my ribs popping and my hip shatter. Protea was ripped upwards from my arms. Though I still clung to her, I felt her body awkwardly thrust up in the water. Amidst the chaos, I felt a jolt of fear for the girl. Something in my black heart told me my own injuries didn't matter. All that mattered was getting her to safety.

Gathering the limp Protea in an agonized movement, I shattered the surface of the crystalline water. I limped through the water, keeping Protea as high above the surface as possible. The pain of my broken hip would not hinder me.

I gritted my teeth hard against the agony and waded out of the pool. Fortunately, it was one of those gradual, rampy-type pools that only filthy rich people could afford. I half limped, half dragged myself and the girl out of the water.

The CCB building loomed to my right, glinting like a blade in the sunlight. There was a lush, manicured lawn to my left and a white marble house at the end of it. I thought about taking the house by force, healing Protea on a Medbay and leaving her there. She was smart enough that she'd find her way from there. She wouldn't have to deal with me anymore.

_Fuck! Not a part of this bloody heaven._ It dawned on me that neither of us had Elysian citizenship, and therefore, couldn't use a Medbay. Desperation threatened to cloud my mind. I couldn't let that happen.

Sodding wet, deadweight in my arms, and in agony, I managed to creep off into the bushes out of sight. I picked a shady spot under cover of the foliage of a palm tree.

Getting to the ground three feet from me was gonna be difficult.

Clenching my jaw tightly against the pain that ensued as I crouched, I managed to get low enough to the ground that I could plunk myself down. A plunk never hurt so much.

I readjusted the broken girl in my arms. I laid her beside me, leaning her against my chest. She was so vulnerable. When she was awake, she was vicious, but incapacitated…

Tempted, my hand snaked down towards her waist, intending to take a feel while I could. Strangely, as if guided by invisible strings, it changed course from her ass to her hips. I gingerly pressed down with two fingers. If my instincts were right, she had a bad break in the crash. Sure enough, even in her unconscious state, I saw her pretty face crinkle in pain.

I felt a twang in my chest just then. The sight of this girl dead to the world, and maybe even dead, made me feel something I hadn't felt in a long time; despair.

I don't know how long I sat there with her.

The sky began to darken in the light of early dusk. I supposed that no one was looking for her anymore. They had just assumed I finished the job when I threw her out the window.

They will look for the body.

They won't find it.

Ever.

I decided there, in the simulated Elysian night, that I would keep her safe forever…


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Soft light pours in through the milky blinds of my room. I shift awake, and stare lovingly at the soft rays. I always love the feeling of being roused by the idyllic sun. The starchy lavender sheets rustled as I pull them back over my head. I smile gently as I blink away the sleep in my eyes. Today was Erick's birthday. He would turn nine today. He grew up so quickly, overnight it seems. _This_ _place_ _truly_ _is_ _Elysium_, I think to myself, grateful for everything I have. A soft thud emanates from downstairs, followed by a yelp. _How strange_, I think as I draw the sheets back, letting my feet drop to the floor. A pound on my door. They come crashing in, three or four of them. They cuff me, bag my head, render me terrified.

I awoke with a start. Pain seared through my body like liquid agony. I uttered a sharp hiss, waking the snoozing cobra. I felt his arm tighten around my shoulder. There was something about the gesture that felt protective. I heard him grunt softly as he shifted awake.

Cautiously, I peered up at him. His face was screwed up in pain. Out of pure surprise, I asked, "Are you okay?"

I felt him stiffen as if he were electrified. I heard a sharp intake of breath before he answered gruffly.

"Fine." His voice dripped with indifference, but I could hear pain stifled behind it. It aggrieved me mentally to admit that I was now completely mesmerized by Kruger. His flip-floppy attitude confused me, and his dangerous then playful disposition unnerved me. Any way I looked at it, there was no definitive answer I could grasp. Would Kruger kill me? Would he release me? Would he give me to Delacourt? Would he fight for me? All these questions rattled harshly like bells in my brain. I was surprised Kruger didn't bark a demand to keep them quiet.

"You don't sound fine…" My voice was thick with pain and spite, but through it, I heard a familiar sarcasm. I was feeling more like myself for the first time in days.

"I'm _fine_," Kruger barked, pain still evident in his voice. He sighed. "As soon as I get out of hea, I'm gonna down a gallon and a half of any booze I can find…"

I found it in myself to chuckle. "I could use a drink…"

Kruger thought for a moment while I rested. "I think it's about time we leave this god-forsaken place."

_We?_

"Can you stand?"

It was an honest question, concern thick in its delivery. I didn't know if I could answer it justifiably. "I don't know…" I honestly didn't. If it hurt as much to tense my muscles, I could not bear to imagine the pain of simply standing up.

"Look," Kruger began, "if you ever want to get out of here, away from Elysium; away from _me_, you're going to have to get up."

His strength was undeniably astonishing. Without warning, he scooped me up in his arms and stood. I let out a cry of anguish as my body crumpled without my control. Pain raced through my body, clouding my judgment further. The only thing I could do was scream in pain, my arms wrapped around Kruger's neck.

The pain lasted an eternity. Black spots obstructed my vision, threatening me with another blackout. I fought my hardest to stay awake against the hellish pain. Through the fog of agony, I heard a grunt of effort come from Kruger; the same kind of grunt that comes when stifling a cry.

I was vaguely aware of my surroundings. A tall, three-story marble house, more like a fortress, stood dominating the skyline at the end of an expanse of well-manicured grass. The struggle coursing through Kruger was like a buzz I could feel. He was injured, albeit not as badly as I was, it seemed, and the pain was killing him. The fact that I was still in his arms honestly surprised me. The way he held me was not in a guarding, dominant way; it was _protective_.

I continued to wail in agony, the pain too much to bear. The house approached, looming in front of us. I could scarcely hear anything amidst my own screams, but I heard voices raised in confusion and a door sliding open.

"_Who's there? What's happened?_"

"Just open the fokkin' door!"

The black spots got larger, threatening to plunge me into another state of unconsciousness. My throat was hoarse. I was now gasping against the pain, unable to scream or even speak. Kruger's voice rang above everything else, loud and clear.

"You! Get a medical kit, anything you have!"

"But, sir, who are—"

"_Now!_"

Sounds of frightened people shuffling around echoed through my skull. We must be inside the marble fortress. Quick to take control of the situation, Kruger was already barking commands into his communicator.

Kruger raised the communicator that was wrapped around his forearm. He growled a command at it and it lit up obediently. He was signaling Crowe; commanding his remaining comrade to pick him up from an Elysian suburb three kilometers away from the CCB.

In the back of my head, I was still awake. _How did we get from the top of the CCB to three kilometers into a suburb…?_ I could only speculate as to how it all happened. Letting my thoughts be replaced by the haze of pain, I felt myself being lowered into a cushy place, one with an embrace of down and fluff. I heard several voices reverberate around me; some accusatory that were met with ferocity, others that were just plain frightened, and some that were simply shocked. One voice in particular stood out above Kruger's angry roars, a deep, soft voice, asking me '_are you alright?' _My eyelids fluttered, trying to open enough for me to see the angelic voice.

A young man, who looked to be about in his late twenties, was gazing down at me with big, artificially paled brown eyes. Though his face was screwed up in concern, he looked devilishly handsome. For a moment, I forgot where and who I was. I gazed up at him like an orphaned pup, unaware of anything but the present moment.

Blinking slowly, I croaked, "Hello…"

The man's eyebrows furrowed in amusement, a soft laugh lingering of his full lips, "Hello, there…" Bright white teeth glittered like stars against his dark face. His smile was dazzling, full of warmth and kindness. He looked at me a little longer, his hand gingerly brushing a hair aside on my forehead, then resting upon it to check temperature. I could only stare, grateful for the human emotion clouding the man's face.

More shouts came from beyond me. Kruger's voice rang loudly, echoing through a sort of corridor. "Get me a medical kit, _please_!" Even with the word 'please', his inquiry was more of a demand.

Another voice, high pitched and estranged, pitched shrilly above Kruger's. "_Who are you _and what are you doing in Mr. Leopold's house?! This is unacceptable! Show me your ID _now_!"

The man above me ducked away. I craned my head to look after him. "Cassandra! Clam it!_" _He shouted sternly, silencing her. He assessed the situation before continuing calmly. "First of all, I'd like to ask what happened." He addressed Kruger. "Please, explain yourself. What is it you want?"

Agent Kruger was staring daggers at the man, clearly not happy with the stalling that seemed to be going on. Jaw tight, he answered slowly, "I _want_ your medical attention. Get it. For her."

He motioned towards me, hands in tight fists at his side. I noticed he was slumped forward, favoring all his weight on one leg, barely standing on the other. His eyes were black; murderous. He would kill if he didn't get what he wanted, if not out of necessity, out of pure anger.

"Alright," the man, presumably the owner of the house, held up his hands for peace. "We'll get you medical attention—"

"Not for me, for _her_," Kruger roared angrily, fire burning behind his coal-black orbs.

"Alright, alright, for her first," the man continued calmly. "Then, we'll attend to you, sir. Judging from your uniform, I would say… mercenary?"

Kruger only glared.

"Still active duty?"

No response.

The man ventured closer. "Recently deactivated…?"

Still no response. Only pure hatred.

"I'll take that as a yes…" the man smiled, mischief surging across his lips. The way he was totally undaunted by Kruger was incredible. The fury in Kruger's glare was enough to kill a small animal. The homeowner simply stared back at him with a blank, amused expression.

If Kruger wasn't broken, the man would surely be dead by now.

He could read Kruger like a book. Something told me that this man was a force to be reckoned with, regardless of his kindly, composed demeanor. "My name is Marcele Leopold. And you are…?"

Kruger's lip couldn't help but jolt upwards in a sneer of derision. Marcele looked him up and down. "Well I suppose it isn't that important then…" He turned to address the woman named Cassandra. "I'll go fetch the med-kit. I believe I have some stabilizers." Marcele left the room while Cassandra with a knowing look. "Watch them…" he muttered as he passed by.

Kruger strode across the room, limping quickly, as quickly as his unidentified injuries would allow. I watched him with concerned eyes as he hobbled towards me. When he reached my side, I grasped his hand. He stiffened at my touch, but otherwise did not look away. Cassandra watched us almost disgustedly, head high, staring at us down her nose.

"Kruger…" I uttered, "Where are we… What's happening?"

"It's alright, princess, you'll be fine." He gazed down at me with pale green eyes, a look of contrived assurance on his face.

I thought it appropriate to ask a question I had been dying to know all this time. "Do you know that your eyes change color…?"

Through a tight smile, he laughed drily. "What?"

"Yeah," I murmured, "from black to green. Why's that…?"

"Must be the light…"

He smiled a little more genuinely, softer than before, the tension seeming to drip off his face. In a moment, his mirth was gone, precisely when Marcele re-entered the room, a small metal box in his hands.

"Here we are," he said as he approached the other side of the couch. If Kruger were an animal at this moment, he would be a hound, trained to attack on cue. His metaphorical hackles were raised in the presence of the other male. If I were not in the middle of it, a fight for territory would no doubt explode. I could not believe the physical crackling of energy and intensity between the two men.

"Looks like you had a bad break, whatever happened…" Marcele looked up at Kruger with a demeaning, accusatory glance. Kruger bristled defensively. "I have this stabilizer here," –he held up a small, spider-like metal object– "that will attach to the small of your back and support whatever area that is broken, acting as a temporary crutch."

"You seem to know a lot about this stuff," I mentioned, finding my voice, finally. "Are you a doctor?"

Marcele laughed. "Yes, luckily for you, I am. Spent ten years, after university, working for the Elysian headquarters as a staff doctor, then got elevated to working at the CCB, which is why I recognize your friend here…" A sidelong glance was all I needed to see to know that these two breeds despised each other already.

"Well I'm awfully glad I landed on your front lawn…" I smiled, absentmindedly, caught in between pain and fascination.

"So am I," Marcele laughed, gazing at me with his mocha colored eyes. We stared at each other a little longer than was acceptable for Kruger, for he rudely interrupted, "Okay! That's enough flirty-flirty." He glared at Marcele. "More worky-worky."

A venomous glance at Kruger let me know to let go of his hand and push him aside. He didn't move, of course, just stood glaring as he had been for the last six minutes.

Marcele prepared to attach the stabilizer to my hip. He pulled aside my shirt to get at the blue and black and bruised area. I could almost see Kruger's eyes bulge out of his head in contempt. Marcele effectively ignored him as he continued to question me. "So where exactly did you come from then, angel?" Out popped the eyes. "Didn't drop out of the sky, did you?"

I winced in pain as the stabilizer attached itself to my bone it wasn't a terrible pain, just an intense pinching one. "To be honest, I don't exactly know what happened…" I looked up at Kruger for answer, but he was too busy trying not to strangle Marcele. "The last thing I remember was escaping from the prison at the CCB. I blacked out. And then I woke up on your front lawn."

At first I wondered if I had said too much. Marcele seemed to be an understanding person, aware of the human condition, but he could just as easily alert the Elysian authorities to come and pluck me, broken or not, from the wreckage. I trusted him, however, considering that he was still willing to help me. And Kruger, for that matter, regardless of his obvious revulsion.

"So… Fugitive then?"

The question caught me off-guard. I supposed I was now a fugitive. The title sounded completely alien to me. "Yeah… Fugitive…" I mumbled, the pain from my pelvis suddenly subsiding greatly. I realized that Marcele had placed a squishy red cold-pack on my bruised area. I sighed in relief. "Thanks…"

"No problem…" Marcele continued to work in silence, prepping the stabilizer-spider thing.

Suddenly, I heard the whirl of the Raven's engines outside. And almost immediately following, the sound of a loudspeaker bellowing orders. "_This is the Elysian government. Please remain in the craft unless ordered otherwise. You are under arrest. Repeat, you are under arrest by order of the Civil Corporation Bureau._"

In a flurry of action, Crowe and another man in similar gear burst through the sliding glass door, shattering it effectively with the butt of their guns.

"_Boss_!" Crowe yelled amidst the madness, desperation thick in his voice. "We gotta scram! CIA is on our tail! Come on!"

The other man piped up. "If you want to live to fight another day, we gotta move."

Kruger only looked blankly at his men, then back to me, then back to them. He deliberated with a blank face. The blankness lasted for a moment or two, before anger surged forward. He whipped around to grasp Marcele by the collar. "Is she healed?"

"Well, sort of—"

"_Is. She. Healed._"

Marcele couldn't respond. Fear clouded his chocolate brown face, his eyebrows lifting in shock. Unsatisfied, Kruger shook him, shrieking now, "IS SHE HEALED?!"

"Yes! Mostly! I just need to—"

Before Marcele could finish, Kruger threw him aside. There was a pounding at the front door and deep, mechanical voice demanding that someone open it. Kruger turned to his men. "New guy, come and get her. Crowe, get the ship ready _now_!"

The new man did as he was told and approached the couch, but he didn't grab me. He grabbed Kruger.

"What?" Kruger's confusion turned threatening, pain furrowing his brow.

"We have to go _now_, boss!" Crowe stepped forward, taking his boss' other arm. Together with the other man, they began to drag their superior towards the Raven, strategically landed out on the broad, marble patio outside, out of firing range.

Kruger was at first unsure of what was happening. He stared at me as he stumbled backwards, brow furrowed and eyes glossy. AS he realized he was being separated from me, only then did he begin to struggle. He fought like the devil to get out of the grasp of his comrades, who each had tubular, metal apparatuses attached to their backs, hips and heads. Kruger bellowed with rage, shaking the very walls of the great marble mansion.

"_PROTEA!_"

And with one final struggle, Crowe had to cuff his leader with the butt of his gun. Kruger fell limp and was dragged off into the Raven. That was the last I saw of him before I blacked out yet again. 


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 KRUGER

_He wished he had stayed dead at that point; for nothing he had ever known compared to the intangible pain in his heart now. Intangible; something he could not grasp, or heal with any technology or medicine. Nothing in the world here or the one above could heal his black and broken heart. _

I had never cried before.

Ever.

It was never acceptable, as a boy or as a man, ever. The man who taught me to fight, not feel, the man I had once called father, never accepted it. The thin red lines of my past, scars, encumbering my forearms like the tattered threads of the burlap cloak I now bore reminded me every day of his tyranny. My life had been a cruel one. Lacerations inflicted, bruises perpetuated, mental scars were everyday but still, I did not cry.

The man who faced me in the shattered mirror now was otherworldly. Bleeding knuckles from perforating the pitiful drywall of the harrowing place I now called home. Lips were torn and ragged from wailing in wrath. Gashes from clawing at my own manifestation, trying to be rid of the memories that always came flooding back whenever I saw it. Cruel metal bio-implants now punctuated the torn-up expression, mocking, glittering, with the reminder of human inferiority and susceptibility. I was adorned with metal, bio-armor off the black market. Above all, what disturbed me the most was the eyes; red, bloodshot, glossy, wild.

For three long days, I had been like this. Since I was torn from _her_, I had been like this.

Now, I cried.

Hysteria wracked me endlessly, hindering my temperament, making me more ruthless than ever before. I could not control this feeling. This feeling I had never known, never been exposed to. The hardships, war and violence had desensitized me beyond the point of feeling anything human. So I thought. It would be so much easier if I was void of all emotion; a machine only sent with an order to kill and retrieve. Not a slave to command, but a dog of war. A merciless, cold-blooded monster bred to kill is what I was, groomed from the dawn of my life to be a monstrosity invulnerable to the emotion that had always hindered humanity. I never knew what human was. Darkness had been injected, become a part of my being, from a very young age. I had lived forever since then, and the past was nothing but ancient dust now, but the pain had never been so potent. Not like it was now.

Being locked away was probably not the best option, then again, neither was being amidst humanity. I should be chained like the perilous creature inside me, who had broken free of its bondage and tore apart any last shred of mercy I had left in me. I was rabid, meant to be put down.

Yet, no one _could_ put me down.

I was invulnerable.

The derelict, wounded walls of my novel apartment mocked me, as if reflecting myself in its grime. Sunlight scarcely leaked through the ragged curtains, pooling on the floor only where I did not tread. Darkness was my only companion, and the light never struck me with its warmth. The apartment had belonged to a pair, a duo, cruelly ironic given the circumstances that I would have otherwise had another body to fill the bedroom opposite mine. Everything was shabby, uncleansed. It was as if it had been trampled over by years of neglect, though it had only been three long days.

Crowe and the newest recruit, whose name I did not know, had made arrangements for their captain while I was incapacitated, trapped in my mental prison. For three days I did not talk, I did not eat. I barely interacted with them, the closest things I had to friends.

I stalked through the streets of my new home, a broken city called Saphrihi, somewhere in eastern South Africa. It did not matter to me where I was, I still found myself looking for one particular face; the face of the one who had taken her away from me.

I couldn't even say her name. Acrimonious saccharinity flooded my thoughts whenever I thought about her, which was all the time. The only time peace remotely came to me was in my dreams. They were blank; black, full of nothing, not even her.

Reality only came to me when I was hunting. Right now, I was blatantly aware of my surroundings, _she_ locked away in the back of my mind but far from forgotten. I had been re-activated, Delacourt having given the order as soon as the government had stopped looking for the body that had inexplicably disappeared. The body of their vengeful prisoner who had escaped their steely claws, who had even fallen through my own. But now, Delacourt had since forgotten her. There were other unfortunate souls who needed her attention, and so, here I was back on the prowl. My target was a man of 'refined' stature, rather, as close to 'refined' as one could get in this godforsaken shithole. He lived in a wealthier neighborhood, and by wealthier, they meant not as ghetto as the surrounding city.

Beginning my stalk a day ago, I had already come close to my prey. I had stood beside him at the market and _watched_ as he inspected each rotting piece of fruit before selecting a dozen. He had wandered away to obscure the view of people from other stalls with his preposterous amount of body fat. Shadowing him closely but not without acceptable distance, I waited until he was in a sheltered area, out of view of the crowds. When he did not comply with my silent commands to make himself scarce, he plodded into another bazaar down several blocks away.

I was getting tired, my strength unavoidably being sapped by my malnutrition as of late. I had wished to be done with this hog and asleep in the apartment I was slowly beginning to accept as my own. His fate was not meant to be sealed that day. The fat man approached a stall and began to chortle loudly with the owner. The proprietor of the pottery stall looked to be about my size, my build, and my strength. He did not have the eyes of a murderer, though I wouldn't put it past the scars burdening his arms and legs that he wasn't _not_ a cold-blooded killer. I decided to keep my distance, his obvious resilience similar to that of my own. Fighting someone my own size was not something I often enjoyed; I preferred to ensure my victory in a fight.

Today, I had not found him yet. I traced my path from yesterday like a hound searching for prey. Sure enough, I found him surveying the food stalls again. _Pig_.

I couldn't even come up with a decent insult. It would be mortifying if anyone could catch a glimpse inside my head. The weakness that went hand in hand with the wrath was like a permanent brand, visible only if consciously covered. Fortunately, weakness left me when I didn't focus on it. With distraction, I was able to forget the human emotion gnawing at me from within.

The fat man walked around for a spell, stopping briefly to look at stalls absentmindedly. It seemed his mind was elsewhere; watching cautiously for something. Perhaps he knew I was on his tail, prey catching wind of a predator.

A small gaggle of children ran towards him, screaming and yelling at him. I snorted amusedly at the scene happening before me from beneath my burlap cloak. The kids poked and prodded him annoyingly, each taking his attention away from the one that had scuttled up from beneath and swiped his wallet. The thief gave 'thumbs up' to his mates, who began to run after him out of the bazaar. Outraged, pink and glistening, the fat man flustered around, yelling curses after the kids. I had to admit that I was impressed at the kids, especially the one who had swiped the wallet from beneath the hippopotamus. The wallet that likely had and ID and an address.

Confident I could find the fat man amidst the otherwise emaciated public, I followed the group of thieves out as far as the outskirts of Saphrihi. Several shacks dotted the train tracks cutting through the boundaries between the affluent and the extremely affluent. The kids walked along the tracks, balancing like alley cats. One by one, the group of five dissipated as they each went to their respective shacks. My target was the last, and was alone now.

Speeding up to a jog, I quickly covered the ground between me and the child. The streetlamps were the only lights that shone against the inky blackness. Not even the moon shone, the smog of the city cruelly choking out its light. I was perfectly camouflaged, a chameleon in my own environment. I shadowed him until he was standing directly under a streetlight.

"_Aye_! Kid!" I barked out the darkness. "Stop thea, boy."

I saw the child stiffen, his arms going rigid at his side and his neck snapping to look behind him. He did not see anything, of course, just the orange glow of the lamp. "Who's there?" he called out. There was no inherent fear in his voice, though he looked terrified. Again, I found myself impressed at the boy's courage. He must have only been seven or eight, but I could see in his eyes he was aged beyond his years.

"No one," I answered abruptly, not revealing the hint of amusement in my voice. "You got a wallet, boy, I think belongs to me."

"I ain't got your wallet!" he retorted immediately. _Fuck, he's toying with fire_. My amusement grew as I looked at the eyes sheltered behind a shaggy, dark brown mop. The boy was facing me now, and even though he couldn't see me, I knew he was looking at me.

I snorted contemptuously. This insolent grub was brave, I gave him that. I guess he deserved a look at the face of terror. With a steely gaze, he watched me as I stepped forward out of the darkness. The look on his face didn't change from cautious arrogance, though mine tilted up into a half-smirk. The boy's skinny little arms crossed in front of his chest. The steel in his brown eyes reminded me of my own.

"What's your name, boy?"

He stared straight at me, unwavering. "Drake Tomlin, but people call me Drakey."

"Alright, little _Drakey_," I sneered, mirroring his crossed arms in a mocking gesture, "let's see that wallet you took off the fat man today, eh?" Drake stiffened again, his wild brown eyes growing wider. He knew what he had something I wanted and was prepared to test me for it.

"What's it to ya?" he retorted hotly.

"Well you see, little guy, I need it. It's got the name of my target, you see, and his home address—"

"So that's what you are then? An assassin?" he interrupted excitedly. "Do you hunt people? Do you have a gun? Are you a mercenary? What's your rank?"

All his questions hammered my sore brain, increasingly agitating me. Since he was only a child, I stayed my blade. As much as I wanted to put an end to his incessant chattering, I felt a soft spot for the boy. From what I could establish, he was courageous, cunning and clever; the perfect makings for a perfect soldier.

However, right now, he was only annoying.

"Shut up!" I snapped, making the boy jump backwards a step. "I'll ask again," I said with a raised eyebrow, "may I have that wallet you've got in your possession?"

Drake pondered for a moment, deliberately toying with me. Finally, he tilted his head in mock interest.

"Can I come with you?"

I stared at him, brow furrowed. "What?" The question had honestly caught me off-guard. He asked again; same volume, same unwavering confidence. I considered it for a moment, surprisingly. I _had_ just considered him making a fine soldier; I could take him under my wing, however uncharacteristic of me it would seem. But then again, who would ever, let alone a child, want to train under _my_ supervision? It was confusing, but not unnatural for me lately, for me to be so out of character.

After thinking briefly about it, I asked, "So there's no other way you'd give me the wallet then, eh, boy?" When he shook his head, I chuckled at his untiring persistence at testing me. "Fine, you can follow when I go to fetch mister…?" I motioned for him to toss me the wallet, which he flung to me readily now. Opening it, I read the ID of my target. "Mr. _Veteriage_," I chuckled, remembering a similar word in Afrikaans. "So he really _is _Mr. Fatty, then, eh?"

Drake laughed as well, picking up the resemblance as well as I did. "So where is this Mr. Fatty anyways then, assassin?"

I looked back at the ID. "Says here he lives in the upper east end, on the ocean." I looked at him. "Little far away from home, eh, boy? You sure?"

Drake looked down at his ragged shoes, kicking aside a stone. "It's no problem for me, assassin. I ain't got no home here anyway… Or anywhere, for that matter…" The forlorn look in his eyes was real, guttural. I recognized it immediately because I had seen it every day in the mirror for the last three days. Pursing my lips, I decided.

"Alright, then, Drakey. Let's git a move on. The earlier we start for the upper east end, the sooner we get to our prey."

The light in his eyes was very satisfactory, and from then on, I had myself a little comrade.

Her memory didn't daunt me quite as much, but the memory of her still lingered with a dull, intangible ache.


	12. Chapter 11 Let Me Tell You

*Author's Note: Hello readers! I am pleased to announce that Cobra Strikes has reached 2,000 reads! Thank you for your on-going support and patience!*

Chapter 11

I was enveloped in darkness. I heard the faint sounds of life bustling around me. The sharp squeak of rubber soles on tile pricked my hearing, giving me that irritating clench in my jaw. I heard hushed voices, an alto and a tenor; a man and a woman. The questions I had reeling through my head seemed to drown themselves out. Nothing made sense.  
>It was now a natural feeling, confusion, and now I just went with whatever seemed to be happening in the present moment. The present was what was most important. Not the past, and not the future. The future was frightening for me, though. Being in a permanent state of confusion was not a state in which I wanted to be.<br>I tried to blink my eyes, but found I couldn't. Something was covering them. A cold, recently dampened thing. Pawing at my face lightly, I gently pulled the cold thing away so I could see. I was looking up into a canopy of sorts. A silken curtain that hangs from the ceiling and reaches over the posts of a bed. It was a thing of my childhood; of my past. It comforted me slightly to know I was not in a steely cage or a slummy ghetto.  
>It comforted me to know I was not dead.<br>Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I lifted my head to look around. I was in a bedroom. It was plush, well-kept and tidy, like something you'd see in a romance film. A fire was burning in a majestic stone hearth, though I smelt no fire. It was artificial; articulated by technology. From that, I was able to ascertain that I was not anywhere on Earth.  
>Instinct told me to be wary. My brow furrowed in caution. These surroundings seemed pleasant enough, but if there was anything I had learned in the last few days, it was that heaven was only an idea. Elysium was not heaven. It was simply a well-manicured, automated object, filled with those decadent enough to make another hurl by simply observing. I remembered now that I hated Elyisum. For endless reasons, and one above all; its people.<br>As if somehow sensing my internal cue, its people walked into my luscious resting place.  
>A black man, followed by a woman who looked to be of south-east Asian descent, walked over to the bed in which I laid. I heard the Asian woman speak, her shrill voice piercing through my hazy state.<br>"Mr. Leopold, we have to get her out of here! She should not stay any longer!"  
>The man spoke in a reassuring tone, trying to console her. "Cassandra, please. Relax. She isn't going anywhere until she can say so. It will be her decision when she wakes up."<br>"But—"  
>"But nothing. And that is my decision."<br>He ushered the lady out of the room. Peace and quiet followed. Focus came to me.  
>I heard the man sigh, sinking low into a cushy chair near the foot of the bed. Something in his voice was sad. I could hear the desperation thick in his deep tone. He scratched his head, which had a neat crop of curly black hair narrowing into a swirl shape near the nape of his neck. He was decorated, but not overly, unlike some of the other painted mannequins on this place.<br>I shifted backwards, walking back on my elbows to raise myself. Over the edge of the puffy comforter, I peered at the man. His head hung down low in front of his shoulders. I wondered why he was so sad. I also wondered why I was where I was.  
>"Hi…" I murmured quietly. I was not expecting such a large reaction from this apparent stranger. His head whipped back to look at me. The look of joy on his face was boundless. He practically jumped out of his chair as he leapt up an extra stair to the bedside. He rushed over to me, hands hovering over my arms as if I were about to fall. His pale brown eyes were glossy and red, as if he had been crying. I blinked lazily and rubbed my eyes. "What, where and why."<br>I saw no point in asking full questions anymore. They were so repetitive and chewed up in my mind. The same questions that all bred the confusion. Enough was enough. All I wanted was straightforward. No riddles.  
>"You were in a coma. My house in district thirty-five of Elysium. Because you're badly injured." He inspected me; my head, my eyes, my neck and body. While he was carefully hovering over me, I looked up from weary eyes and asked, "Who…?"<br>His otherwise tentative face shifted for a second, into hurt. It flickered across for a brief moment before it returned to a hardened look. "Marcele. You crashed into my pool."  
>"What?" I bleated, shimmying upwards until I sat upright. I faced Marcele now directly. "What happened?" I demanded. I tried to get up, but pain wracked my body as I wrenched my leg aside. I fell back onto the bed, curling up in a fetal position, mouth wide in a silent scream.<br>"Whoa, whoa, relax! Everything's okay…" I felt Marcele's arms gingerly curl around me. Feeling inherently safe in this man's arms, I pushed myself into the crook of his shoulder and began to cry. Raw emotion poured out of me and into his fine, red silk shirt. Salty tears streamed down my cheeks. Sound was void. My sobs were silent, as if caught in a silent film. The true nature of my situation sunk in.  
>I was safe.<br>I was free.  
>From him.<br>A jolt of recollection rocked my body. Everything from the last few days came rushing back to me in perfect clarity.  
>I looked around rapidly, looking for a snake in the shadows.<br>"Where is he? Where?!"  
>I scrambled further into Marcele's arms. He wrapped me up reassuringly, letting me release all my emotions while still keeping me safe from myself.<br>"Relax," I heard his soothing voice from overhead coo. "He's gone. He won't bother you anymore. You're safe."  
>At first, I wondered if Marcele and I were talking about the same person. I knew who I was focused on. A venomous cobra, a snake that was neither merciless nor human. The mesmerizing terror of what I felt with sincerity were my final hours; my fate.<br>I tried to relax, my body shuddering with each deep breath. Marcele held me, still, his humanly warmth keeping me grounded in the otherwise cold fathoms of my mind. When I could focus, the blur of tears in my eyes gone, I spoke. "You said I was in a coma? For how long?"  
>"Three days," he answered, disbelief thick in his voice.<br>"But… Why am I still here? Why aren't I in prison?" I paused, thinking hard. "Or dead?"  
>"I turned the CCB away when they came to investigate. Seems that your boyfriend's men—"<br>"He is not my boyfriend," I hissed angrily, interrupting him, making clear my boiling point. He continued cautiously, now clearly wary of my temper.  
>"—were followed by the government. Your captor gave them his coordinates, and when they went to pick him up, they tracked them. Apparently, there was a conflict with Secretary Delacourt regarding the new guy. Something about leadership conflict, I don't know. They took tall, dark and scary back to earth when they scrammed. You don't have to worry about him anymore. I promise."<br>The sincerity in his eyes made me break into a new crop of tears, not of sadness or terror, but of mirth and relief. I felt a smile blossom; a true one, a genuine one. I laughed. Although it sounded nothing like a laugh, something in between a squeak and a snort, it was contagious. Marcele chuckled softly, his furrowed brow relaxed. I hugged my liberator, thankful for the weight of the world that had been lifted off my shoulders.  
>But I still had the weight of Elysium crushing me like a wrecking ball.<br>Releasing the poor man from my death-hug, I settled back into the downy pillows. "So… What happens now? Do I get arrested? Are you going to take me back to my execution? I'm sure you'd make a pretty penny… I am a fugitive, after all…"  
>The word tasted funny in my mouth.<br>Few-jit-tive. Gah...  
>Marcele laughed. "I don't think so," he said softly. "You've gotten this far. You could use a break."<br>"Yeah, I think I'm good," I mumbled, looking down at my hip, still bruised and blackened. The last thing I remembered was Kruger telling me I had a broken pelvis, and the unimaginable pain.  
>Kruger.<br>That word, however, had a peculiarly nostalgic taste on my tongue.  
>I wondered briefly where he was, what he was doing. If he was thinking of me… I sure was thinking of him.<br>"I'll ask again, what happens now?" I asked firmly, all laughter forgotten at the thought of the cobra. "Are you going to turn me in, now that I'm awake?"  
>"I honestly thought about it, yes," Marcele replied just as firmly, though it sounded as though he was mocking me playfully. "But I haven't had a chance to get to know you, to see if you really deserve it..." He punctuated this with a wink of his pale brown eyes. Involuntarily, my heart fluttered. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. I turned away shyly, not wanting to let this stranger know I found him charming. I was grateful for his understanding and gentle nature.<br>"So you aren't going to turn me in?"  
>"No. I promised I'd fix you up. And I intend to keep that promise." He straighten out. "Now, I can't heal you with my own hands. You need a Medbay. And you don't have any proper citizenship." He gestured down to my wrist. "What's your story, anyway? I don't even know your name…" He sat on the edge of the bed, still wary of my bipolar attitude. He deliberated for a moment, frowning. "Listen… I understand completely if you don't trust me. I can only imagine what a state you're in. I'd like to understand you… You're a mystery…"<br>My brow furrowed, considering his words. He was being sincere, a pleasant change from the uncertainty and cruelty surrounding me lately. "Okay then," I said, readjusting to a comfortable position on the bed. "Ask me anything."  
>"How'd you end up with beardy? Can't imagine a girl like you'd ever sport a bloke like that."<br>"What's that supposed to mean?" I bristled, offended slightly. "A girl like me? 'Sport'?"  
>He frowned, shaking his head. "I don't know, just… You seem like you're above him. Way above. Like, Elysium above. He's just a soldier and a dirty one at that…" He trailed off, disgust imminent in his voice. I could only wonder why he, one who hadn't actually met Agent Kruger before, detested him so much. If I ever had the courage to, I would ask him about it later.<br>"Yeah... I'm not exactly an angel... You see, Delacourt was on my tail as soon as I started my mission nearly four years ago."  
>"What mission was that?" Marcele asked politely and curiously. "If you don't mind my asking," he added consciously.<br>"I was sending money from Elysium to fund an escape project. I was working with some hackers on Earth to send carriers to Elysium so that people dying could get help. But no, the CCB can't have illegals anywhere near their precious heaven..." I trailed off, boiling in my hatred for the decadent, and hating myself for having once been one. I saw Marcele cringe a little, so I tried not to be so cynical towards all of Elysium. Considering I had been in a coma without the authorities knocking at the door for the days in an Elyisum household, I figured the least I could do was be grateful without spite. "So they traced the source of the funding back to me. They found me, bagged me, and deported me without a word... My family was distraught. So was I. Armadyne security dumped me in Los Angeles, rather, what remains of it. It's really just a poor excuse for a city now. Huge buildings without walls, and streets filed with vermin." Marcele nodded grimly, as if trying to imagine such a place. Taking his silence as a cue to continue, I recalled my first time on Earth.  
>"I don't even know how I survived, honestly. A rich-looking girl like me would be a prime target for the malicious cretonnes in the streets, right? Nope. Turns out, I blended in perfectly. As soon as I got some dirt on my face and some miles on my feet, I was unrecognizable. Completely invisible. I lived my life like that for the next two years... I stole what I needed and sold what I didn't. In time, I had bought a place of my own, and survived without anyone else."<br>"Must've been lonely."  
>"Wasn't really," I replied, caught in my nostalgia. "I didn't interact much with people, but people interacted with me. I met a young man I eventually found out worked for my hackers-"<br>Marcele laughed. "Your hackers?"  
>"Well I DID employ them, technically!" I chucked, feeling more uplifted. "See, the hackers were infamous around where I lived at the time. When I told Ricky - that was the guy's name - my name he recognized my voice. He took me to head of command. Spider was his name. A big, burly dude with that 'I'm the shit' attitude about him. He had a son, I remember that... Little boy with a bum leg and a cane at the age of two... I decided then that I would help them as much as I could from Earth. They trained me to fight, to flee, to free. They wanted me to free thier captured men from the CCB Corp. within an army base. An army base!"<br>Marcele, who had been listening intently, was now leaning in further. The captivation on his face was priceless. He nodded urgently at me to continue.  
>Chucking at his enthusiasm, I continued to weave the heroic and harrowing tale of the last few years of my life. "So I went to the base. I freed the prisoners. No problem. The problem came later, when the mercenaries finally caught wind of us. Spider's men escaped while I tried to create a diversion."<br>"What was your diversion?" Marcele couldn't help but ask, for I had paused unintentionally. The gravity of _that_ day began to resurface. The day I met my fate, the lead-up to these last few.  
>"What?" I asked, forgetting my place briefly.<br>"How did you divert their attention?"  
>"Oh... I, uh... I burned their base to the ground. That was the single most idiotic choice of my life. And I'm paying for my idiocy."<br>Marcele looked questioningly at me.  
>"My stupid choice is what brought me here. In a hover craft with a painted springbok on the door..."<p>

*(Forget about Mark Delacourt. I'm discounting his character, if anyone really cared…)*


	13. Chapter 12 Shut It Now

Chapter 12 _Shut It Now_

KRUGER

_Hunting was a primal instinct. Something he knew naturally. The skill of tracking and killing was as normal as breathing to him. Compassion, however, was quite a skill to be learned._

The next day was one of the worst I had ever experienced. Nothing compared. The only one that might come close was the day I had my heart punctured with a katana. It was an awful, horrible, grievous, outrageous, terrible, heinous form of punishment not even I could endure...  
>"And then I told him, 'better back up, cause I'm packing!'"<br>Drake would not stop talking.  
>I was not one to partake in copious amounts of conversation, and when I did, I was entirely drunk. Right now, I was utterly sober, and right now, I was willing to leap into traffic to get away from this unyielding, annoying little chatterbox.<br>"Then he dropped the box and ran away. I laughed after him like a pirate. You know, 'har-har-har'! That kind of thing. I carried the spoils back to the boys and we feasted like kings! OH! That reminds me of this time when I caught this farmer's alpaca..."  
>Since breakfast, I had given up on telling him to stop talking. Every time I snapped at him, he stared at me and continued his stories. Even when I physically threatened him, held him up against the wall with my katana to his throat, he looked at it, looked at me, and told me about the time he wanted to be a ninja.<br>I had been second-guessing my merciful actions to bring him along.  
>Drake's eight year old life story had not yet reached the end of its tales. He was still chattering about himself. I was honestly surprised, and a little hurt, that he had asked anything about me. The stranger who was armed to the teeth and had allowed him to follow along on a contract like a school field trip. I had a story to tell. Someone deserved to know that even I experienced humanity.<br>"ENOUGH!" I finally bellowed. Drake's mouth snapped shut, his eyes wide. I stared him down, looming over him to make him physically bend backwards to look up at me. "Now," I growled intimidatingly, "are you going to shut your mouth, or am I going to shut it for you?" He shook his head briskly, understanding that I was close to my limits with him. "Good. Now let's continue. Perhaps we can play 'the quiet game', eh? Won't that be fun?"

I couldn't help the irritation that enriched my voice. The natural tendency to sass was coming back to me after the recent days of bitterness. I was feeling more like myself, admittedly around Drake, than I had the last few days. And even though he annoyed the fuck out of me, I liked having him around.  
>"Hey..." Drake mumbled up at me expectantly. I raised an eyebrow. "Um. My mom used to say, if you're ever lost, you should ask questions." Drake looked up at me, as if asking my permission to continue. I stalked away, walking towards the Raven's due landing space. Crowe and Abbott would be arriving shortly, considering I had signaled them an hour ago. The lazy bastards were probably so hungover.<br>Drake skipped up beside me, skittering sideways on the dusty ground. "So, so, so," he continued, "since my mom said I should always ask questions, I should ask what your name is." He stopped in front of me, blocking my way. He seemed to realize his mistake and flinched, as if waiting to receive a wallop. I stared at him intently, startled a little at his show of fear. He must've come from a home similar to mine. I had felt that fear, that bracing for the strike. Perhaps that was why I had grown attached to the boy. I saw myself in him.  
>"I guess you should."<br>He looked up at me with stars in his eyes, either out of respect or out of gratitude that I had not struck him. His eyes glittered now with curiosity. The least he deserved was to know the name of this idolized assassin.  
>"Kruger," I said simply. He didn't need to know my first name. No one did.<br>"Kruger..." He repeated my name breathlessly, as if memorizing it. He looked up at me. "Is that your only name? Like, that a last name or soemthing?" His mouth dropped into an O-shape. "Like a _code_ _name_ or something? I want one! I'll be..." Before he could start to brainstorm, I clamped a gloved hand over his mouth.  
>"The quiet game, remember?" I rolled my eyes and barked a command into my talkie at Crowe. "Where the fuck are you guys? We're burning daylight."<br>A crackle responded to my question, then Crowe's voice rang out above the interference. "We'll reach your destination in thirty... twenty nine... twenty eight..." While he was counting, I heard the heavenly whirl of my craft's engines soar past my head. "Three... two..."  
>The Raven landed several feet away. The wind from the craft as it landed sent my hair whipping across my eyes. It nearly blew Drake off his skinny little feet, but above the roar of the engines, I heard an enthusiastic "wicked!" from the boy. Smiling widely as Crowe plundered out of the hanger door, I embraced him as though it had been days. He smelt of heavily of alcohol.<br>"Damn, you betta not be driving my craft with that much bubble in your blood, mate!" I roared over the engines, clapping him on the back. I didn't give him time to respond before I jostled him back towards the Raven.  
>I was still more than pissed at him for the incident on Elyisum. He never went into details as to why the Elysian government had tracked him to the proletariat's house, only that he wasn't proud of what he did. I had rolled my eyes at him and docked him this week's pay. I was in the mood to do much worse, however, three long days ago.<br>"Let's go, Drakey!" I called to the boy, who eagerly ran over to me when I signaled to him. The look on Crowe's face was priceless. Something caught between amusement and disbelief. I howled with laughter, and slapped his back playfully again. "I'll git you acquainted on the way."  
>The three of us shuffled our way through the dust being kicked up to the Raven's hanger. Once we were all inside and secure, only then did I address Crowe's suspicion.<br>"This hea is Drakey," I introduced.  
>"'Ello!" Drake piped up enthusiastically, waving his hand madly at Crowe. "Ow's ya doin', gov'na?"<br>I could see Crowe bristle angrily. Drake had picked up Crowe's English nationality and mocked it before he knew what Crowe's temper was like. Luckily for him, though, Crowe was relatively docile and thought before he acted. But at this rate, the only way Drake would survive the journey was if I physically placed myself between the two of them.  
>"Drakey, Crowe."<br>"Hey ya, squirt," the pilot grumbled, knowing that since his superior officer had invited the child aboard, he had no choice but to deal with the pest. Crowe now turned to me. "Abbott's flyin' now, sir. Got to admit I been out drinkin' more then I shoulda... Thought it best to test-drive the new co-pilot."  
>"<em>Ja<em>, good thing, too. Now you and Drakey can git better acquainted!" I clapped his back and scrambled to the cockpit without another word.  
>Abbott glanced back at me briefly before returning his eyes to the sky. When he didn't say anything, I awkwardly asked "so how's our course?"<br>"We should be at the upper east end in twenty minutes. Sir."  
>The way he spoke was mechanical. I didn't like a man who was afraid to address his captain any way other than as if under inspection. He made me uncomfortable, plain and simple. Frowning at his turned head, I sat down in the pilot's seat. As I did, I heard Drake and Crowe beginning to argue about something. Their voices heightened, bickering loudly about which was better; rugby or football (in the English sense). I could sense that this argument would either make or break a friendship between the two of them.<br>I snorted with amusement and turned my eyes forward to watch the city below vanish into rolling green jungle. Since the co-pilot wasn't interested in being any kind of conversational, I laid back and rested for the rest of the journey.  
>Being left to my own thoughts wrought me with agony once again. Without distraction, I was only left to think about one thing, one <em>girl<em> that had changed my life, whether or not I wanted to admit it. She was the one thing that ever made me question myself. My instincts were never wrong and worse yet, I had never let a target escape me. Then again, I had never felt desire for a target.  
>It <em>was<em> desire I had felt then, and what I felt now. Though the feeling was alien to me, I was beginning to understand what it was. I knew what attraction was; I hadn't earned the title of 'lady-killer' because I was incompetent around the opposite gender. I knew what lust was, yes, but this wasn't lust, no. There was a depth to it I couldn't fully comprehend. A sort of longing to be beside her, to be with her, to protect her from harm. Now that I would surely never see her again, I was terrified of myself. Of what I would turn into. I was bred to be a monster, yes, but even monsters experienced existential crises.  
>I hadn't realized that Abbott had been droning at me, telling me that we had landed near Mr. Veteriage's property. I removed my iron grip from the armrest, and trudged back into the hanger.<br>Crowe and Drake were still arguing about their sports, each fiercely defending with attacks on the other.  
>"What good is it to kick a ball?! Ya pick it up, run with it, and tackle anyone who tries to take it! THAT'S a <em>real<em> sport!"  
>"That's where <em>skill<em> comes into it! Anyone can pick up a ball. It takes _skill_ to defend your goal. Skill _and_ strength! Brains _and_ brawns!"  
>They each stopped when they noticed me staring at them. A depressed expression still hung on my tired face, dragging the corners of my mouth into a scowl. Crowe looked concerned while Drake looked inquisitively at me.<br>"What?" I snarled.  
>"Nothin'..."<br>"Good. Let's go. We're hea."  
>Drake obediently got up from his seat while Crowe stayed sitting. He would stay here and monitor the airspace while Abbott, now Drake, and I would take our target. I hated taking chances when I was about to kill. I always played it safe, eliminated the variables. I was always so sure...<br>A spray of ocean breeze hit my face as soon as I stepped out of the Raven. The fat man's house was sizable. It looked more like a small mansion than a house, spanning three stories directly up. It had a clinical feeling to it. White, pristine walls stuck out against the dull landscape, looking not at all like the upper-class shacks surrounding it. There was something about the house that struck me as odd.  
>"Careful," I said, unconsciously holding a hand before Drake. Abbott stopped, scanned the area and continued forward. He held his gun aimed at the front door of the house, pointed towards the grand bay window that looked into the main foyer of the home. He stalked forward low, like a cat stalking prey, until he reached the front porch. I saw him turn his head to signal me forward just before a loud crack emanated from beside his head.<br>Instinctively, I dropped to the ground, dragging a heavy hand down on Drake's shoulders. I heard a grunt when he hit the floor, and I held an arm over him protectively. For several long moments, nothing happened. There was silence. I thought for sure that Abbott was dead, the crack having had something to do with his head. Fortunately, my right hand was still alive, crouched low to the ground, alert to whatever had made the sound.  
>It sounded like a hollow gun shot, the kind of sound that tried to be stifled by redirecting it. From my highly educated guess, someone was in a gun fight.<br>I peered up from the ground, ignoring Drake's grunt of protest as my hand became heavier. I saw no telltale signs of a far-off assault, like a sniper trying to ward off bounty hunters. There was no bullet-hole beside where Abbott's head stood moments before. The front of the house was unscathed.  
>As I was scouting, the sound came again, and again, the three of us flinched instinctively. Using my skillful hearing, I located the origin of the sound to be around the back of the house, near the boardwalk leading out to the ocean. Another crack sounded almost immediately after the second.<br>Abbott and I both responded at the same time. Pouncing forward from a crouch, I side-stepped towards the side of the house, keeping an eye in front and behind me. Drake kept a steady pace, slowing down and speeding up when I signaled at him. He had picked up a piece of broken metal, a wickedly sharp broken rebar, and carried it like a spear, pointed towards the possible danger.  
><em>He <em>will_ make a good little soldier one day_, I thought proudly for a moment, _now all he needs to do is shut up... _  
>When we convened at the side of the house, Drake was the first to peer cautiously around the corner. Clutching his rebar, I saw him shiver, either with anticipation or fear. I gently pulled him away from the edge of the house, laying a heavy hand on his skinny shoulder. "Come away, boy. This ain't your turn to die."<br>He looked at me with wide eyes, wondering how I was so prophetic and sure of myself. I only shook my head. If I knew what hunting was, it was competition.  
>Someone else had gotten to the fat man.<br>I had known he was a highly valued target. Delacourt had paid me handsomely for this kill. 'Dead or alive, I don't care, Agent 32,' she had said, 'just...dispose of the body if you prefer the former...' I could barely contain my laughter as she said that. The look on her face was priceless. Her aversion to anything remotely unclean, including me, was laughable. I wondered if she would appreciate a fat little head on her pretty Elysian doorstep.

I braced, ready to anticipate a gruesome and gory scene, full of blood and horror. I honestly would have preferred gore to the guileless violence I saw when I turned around the corner. 


	14. Chapter 13 - Facelift

Chapter 13

Since telling him who I had been the last four years, Marcele had only managed to sputter with disbelief. The only life he had known was wealth and prosperity. The gravity of life began to sink in, it seemed. It was if the life I had experienced was unimaginable.  
>Marcele filled me in on the last three days. Since blacking out, he had hidden me away in a bedroom while his housemaid, Cassandra, opened the door to the remaining Elysian police. With most of them having taken off after the Raven for whatever reason, the tension was decreased drastically. Two Armadyne bots, Marcele had explained, questioned Casandra at the door about a missing person and why the mercenaries had come to Marcele's house. With ease, she derailed their suspicions, ranting on about how they ought to be searching the CCB building and the area around that, not the suburbs, disturbing the sleep of many.<br>Though she detested me and my crashing here, she liked me enough to turn away the government. That was the last kind thing she did for me, Marcele explained. "She didn't even fluff your pillows when I asked her to!" he joked.  
>I could have easily been handed over to the police, then all their problems would be solved. Why I was still here, I couldn't imagine. I know if my current self had come through my doorway years ago, I would have the police on speed dial.<br>Funny how things change.  
>"What are you thinking about?"<br>Marcele interrupted my thoughts. It took a moment to realize where I was. I was in a wheelchair, in a pristine looking waiting room. Expensive looking holograms hung on the walls around me, all displaying important pieces of art from the dawn of modem art, which was nearly a century old now. Picassos with overturned faces mocked the institution I found myself sitting in.  
>"Just thinking about what my new face will look like..."<br>"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Marcele noted gravely. "I'm serious. You _don't_ have to do this."  
>I looked up at him seriously, a grim line pressed onto my lips. "New citizenship, new ID... right? Makes sense to me..."<br>I bore down into my lap, eyes fixed on the space just before my feet. I could feel the wheelchair being pushed forward, but I couldn't comprehend what was happening around me. Voices sounded garbled in my ears.  
>I buried myself in the last few scraps of decent memories I had left, focusing on only the bittersweet. There was no good memory without sadness or fear, so even bittersweet was like a fine nectar.<br>Images of the past flickered across my vision. The day of my brother's birthday, just before I was captured and deported, flooded my memory with soft, warm sunlight. I closed my eyes, and imagined my old backyard. It was a beautiful deciduous area of Elysium, with simulated mountains on the horizon. Northern lights shone above at night, I remembered that. I could almost feel the sunlight glowing warm against my skin. Sunlight, shade, and breeze. The soft breathing of sleep. I remember looking up at a moment like that, and seeing him laying there with me, a protective arm draped around my shoulders. The warmth of that moment was bliss. Remembering it now made it all the sweeter. When he looked down at me, my heart fluttered.

And that was the bitter part.  
>I snapped out of my delirium with a start. Marcele was looking at me as if waiting for a response. His eyebrows were raised expectantly, as if he were asking a question, as we're the doctor's, who was now standing beside him.<br>"Hmm?" prompted the doctor.  
>"What...?" I mumbled absentmindedly.<br>"I said, will you please describe to me what you want your new identity to look like. You must have given this some thought."  
>.I looked blankly at him. "No. Not really," I said simply. I was under a haze. Everything felt numb, especially reality.<br>"Well, as you know," he looked to Marcele for a moment before turning back to me, "the only reason I agreed to this operation was because I owe _monsieur Leopold_ a favour." Marcele nodded, smiling like there was an inside joke going on between old friends. "Regardless of the illegality of this scenario..." He scratched his neck, which was littered with raised, inkless tattoos of old English words. The word 'perfect' scrawled in old cursive wrapped around the majority of his neck. I couldn't help but turn up a lip at the irony of what he was about to do to me. A plastic surgeon would be _paid_ to take away my face, my memory and my past. Now I would have my memory erased, taken away, just like my physical identity.  
>I had believed sincerely that Kruger would have been my end. As it turns out, fate was merciful. Perhaps it was fate that had torn him from me, or perhaps it was blind luck. I was free, but nonetheless, I still felt chained to the ground like an animal. Part of me wanted to forget, part of me wished it had never happened. But deep down, I knew there was a feeling that would have otherwise revolted me; affection. In the remotest sense. But even when I tried to convince myself the feeling was as far from legitimate as it could get, I always found myself reveling in its unlawful feeling.<p>

Maybe I was just attracted to danger, especially when it had pale green eyes and a manic tendency towards violence.

_How fucked up…_  
>"Protea? You okay?"<br>Snapping out of 'unlawful' feelings, I glanced up at Marcele from my wheelchair. He looked very concerned. His handsome face was crinkled with uncertainty. He didn't want me to go through with this, this face change, but there was no way I could ever go back to the way things were.

Protea Angelico was a fugitive, an outlaw. If she didn't die, I surely would, whoever I was at the time. Delacourt would have me on a platter. Kruger couldn't save me from her wrath the next time she saw me, no, I would not survive Delacourt a second time.  
>"There's no other choice..." I murmured solemnly. "Otherwise, I die. This is the only way, aside from the former. This is the only way I can stay hidden from her."<p>

_And from him_, I added silently.  
>"As long as you're sure about this…"<p>

"I am, Marcele," I nodded solemnly. I motioned for him to lean in further. "I can't thank you enough for your help. I don't even know what to say."

"Just survive."

"Okay..." The doctor seemed to be antsy and impatient. He motioned for Marcele to wheel me further into his office. "Now please, don't be scared."  
><em>I'm fucking terrified, you moron<em> I spat at him, shooting daggers through my eyes. _This is not who I am. You're _changing _me._  
>Once again, I had to restrain my disdain for Elysians.<p>

I _did_ like Marcele. He was different. It was if he were a different breed than the rest altogether. He had a modesty about him, without the weight of arrogance, not like a true born Elysian. Not like me.  
>For a while, I had forgotten my heritage. I was an heiress, technically, though I never told anyone that. I would have been dead as soon as I was flung upon the streets of Los Angeles three years ago. I was an heiress to my parent's fortune. Since my mother was still alive and well, and would have been for some time, I had no worries about inheriting my family's fortune and having to decide what to do with it. With my father having supposedly died when I was young, I was taught the value of life from a young age. I was taught how to save and spend effectively, so that my output into the community came back to me. Of course, no six year old girl wants to learn how to complete a spreadsheet of taxes, but I was thankful for my mother's uptight methods eventually. She was part of the reason I started my mission so long ago, a mission I had no hope of fulfilling now…<p>

"We're ready to begin the process," the doctor announced rather quietly. I hated the way he looked down his nose at me. Though I _was_ physically below his level, the way he looked at me made me feel as though I were a rat picking through garbage. "Please select your new facial features while I prepare your new citizenship."

He walked away, leaving me and Marcele alone next to the twelfth generation Hyper-Bay. Elysium could truly do anything, it seemed.

The machine that would change me and heal me at once was incredible, I had to admit. It was huge, nearly twice the size of a standard issue Medbay. White, sterile looking glass panes lined the side of the monstrous machine. Lovely golden vines were imprinted in the glass, spreading out along its length and glowing as if they were alive. The healing arm was gold, like the vines, and had pearlescent designs like the rest of the machine. A large, touch-screen control panel was presented on the side of the elliptical bay. On the screen currently, were faces of beautiful women around my age.

The images did not look real; they were fake. Phony faces contrived by a machine that had a generated code of beauty. None of these women actually existed. They were all images, raw computer data, and I would soon take one of them, pluck their pre-conceived images from the database and make it a reality.

My ethical and moral center was on fire, blaring alarms about how disgusting this was, how ridiculous this whole process is. But regardless of the voices in my head, the tech-savvy, Elysian genius in me was absolutely amazed.

"Wow," I mumbled, scrolling through the thousands of unique faces. Each one had a code, an unused citizenship. Was this how the government chose its citizens? Were all Elysians once computer generated images?

These questions made my stomach churn with anxiety but also with anticipation. I found myself _excited_, however repugnant that sounded.

"That's a lot of options…" Marcele mumbled, looking over my shoulder as I scrolled.

"How do I _pick_? I mean, what if I don't like the one I pick?"

"You can get it changed again," Marcele informed, almost proudly. "Those are the perks of knowing me," he punctuated with a wink.

_Damn, he's incredible,_ I thought dreamily, all feelings of anxiety forgotten in his silky brown eyes.

Since I first met him, I had felt safe with Marcele. Though he was still a stranger to me, I felt as though I could trust him to keep my identity a secret. Because there was no space on Earth for me, _and even less on Elysium_, I thought bitterly, I could not go back. I was not yet ready to die, and I could still do more from Elysium than I ever could from Earth. With the options weighing in favor of staying on my original home, I decided to make what time I had worthwhile. I just had to bide.

"So what are you gonna pick then?" Marcele prompted. "Blonde. Brunette… Ginger…?" I saw him grin like an idiot, adorably.

"What is it about gingers, honestly?" I wondered with a smirk.

"I don't know," he murmured innocently, "they're more mysterious?"

"Ah ha, yeah… I'm sure…"

I continued to scroll through the faces. Since I already had long, dark hair, I decided I would have it short and light. _Not too much like Delabitch_, I thought with a scowl, trying to contain my buzz of emotions.

Yes, short, light brown hair was the way to go. A softer jawline, too, for mine was sharp, square and almost to a point; very recognizable. My eyes should change too, but there was something about them that I adored. As narcissistic as that sounded, I still wanted to retain a part of me. With everything that would soon change, I wanted a small reminder of my past, even if I did not remember it.

I scrolled through the faces, filtering down by features. I finally found a suitable one, one I liked, with a satisfied groan from Marcele. "Even shopping for a _face_, women take forever!"

The doctor came back in at that moment, holding a silver keycard. He waited until we were both sizzling with anticipation. He dipped his head before cheerfully asking, "Have we made a decision?"

Marcele and I looked at each other. All of a sudden, I got a rush of terror. I wasn't ready to have everything I was taken away from me.

But then again, there was more that I'd like to forget than I'd like to remember.

I was loaded carefully into the Hyper-Bay with the help of two strapping young nurses. They positioned my broken body onto the wide cushioned bed. The polished fabric squeaked when I dragged my fingers along it. As I was reveling in my amazement, Marcele clasped my hand in his. My fingers found their way as I entwined them in his.

It was more of a natural reaction to the numbness I had been feelings as of late. The obscurity and the potency of fear and regret had come clashing together to create a vast expanse of grey. I had seen no colour for the past few days. The last colour I potently remember was pale green…

"You ready?"

_Inhale. Exhale_.

"Yes." 


	15. Chapter 14 Bloody Flower

*Author's note: Hurrah! 3,000 reads! Thank you all so much for your on-going support! I assure you, this ain't over yet!*

Bloody Flower – Chapter 14 KRUGER

_Violence had been a part of his life, a natural thing, almost, from the dawn of his life. Violence surrounding him in the world, in his community, everywhere. The outside violence, however, did not compare to the violence inside his own home. The more domestic, the more devastating. _

I wished I had shielded Drake's eyes. A boy his age should never witness this kind of appalling reality.

The numb feeling I got whenever I saw a woman assailed and scarcely breathing beneath the bloodied fist of a man flooded through my veins. It took all the strength I had to keep still, not crumple beneath my childhood traumas like a blade of grass beneath a stone. I forced myself to stare at the scene splayed out before me, keeping Drake behind at a safe proximity.

The scene was plain, easy to distinguish. Blatant reality glared like a snake coiled and ready to strike.

My target, the man who must have out-weighed three full-grown men, stood straddling a woman, obviously dwarfed by his sheer magnitude. She may as well have been a child, barely sixteen, and barely alive. Veteriage had knuckles the colour of scarlet roses. Why the juxtaposition of roses to blood came to mind, I had no idea. Something about the way her blood dripped from his hand was frighteningly real, frighteningly beautiful in the most gruesome way. Beside the girl was another woman, of equal size and weight, though she looked older than the girl which could only be her daughter. She had not been breathing since the first crack split her broken skull.

Behind me, Drake had sunk to the ground, his knees in the dirt and his face in his hands. I could hear the incoherent stifle of a loud sob filled to the brim with anguish, and horror. Instinctively, I moved in front of the boy, feeling a sort of paternal protection overtake me that I couldn't control. Abbott moved around the corner quietly, nearly gagging at what he saw.

Veteriage glistened grossly, panting, looking down blankly at the shallowly breathing girl beneath him. He waited for a long time before he acknowledged our presence. Even when we engaged him, he was unresponsive.

"Veteriage!" Abbott yelled out to the fat man, gun raised, pointed at his head. No response. "Put your hands up and step away from the girls!" Still no response.

The fat man stepped aside of his own accord, glancing up from the violence only to stare at us with beady black eyes, only for a moment.

I clenched my jaw tightly, fighting the urge to tear across the lot and rip the man apart. The monster inside me was roaring to be unleashed. Clawing at my innards, churning up my flesh from the inside out. He wanted _out_. And I _wanted _him out. I could feel my body burning with every negative emotion a human being could feel, and some that only a monster could. I felt like the devil, and I was ready to reap the souls that I so deserved.

I stalked forward, slashing out at Abbott, who tried to stop me. He flew aside when I shoved him, new-found strength flooding my veins. Eyes trained on my kill, I tried desperately not to look at the poor souls bleeding out on the ground. The fat man had sunken to the ground beside the young girl. Her raspy breaths were barely audible above his labored breathing. The closer I got, the more aware he became of me. The look I got from Veteriage as I stood over him let me know that I was in total control now.

_Just as it should be_.

The ugly thing looked up at me from stroking the pretty-much-dead girl's hair. The forlorn, lost expression on his face told me that he had gone into shock, probably realizing the extent of the thing he had done.

"_Doen dit nie… Ontferm…" _In the form of a broken sentence, punctuated with long gasps for breath, he managed to beg for mercy. "Please…"

For some _bizarre_ reason, I could not look at him with pity. The blood on his hands was just too real; undoubted, undisputed, irrefutable evidence of his criminality. The begging look in his eyes was something I was used to, something I was used to ignoring.

Sometimes it helped to be a human cold bank.

"_Ja_," I started, inviting a hopeful look on the red and sweaty face. Then, I raised my handgun, the one with the tiny 2mm bullets in it, the one that hardly made a splash, so to say. I felt my lips curl up in a Cheshire grin, savouring that delicious moment of hope being expertly dashed before I told him, "Not a chance." In a second, he was alive, and in the next, he was dead. One practiced shot was all I had ever needed to bring down the boar. One of such proximity was too good to fuck up. There was something about being close that made the kill all the better.

His deadweight hit the ground with an audible thud. The tiny hole in his eye socket had a tiny trail of bright red blood pouring from it. It trickled over the bridge of his nose and settled with a puff of dust on the ground, pooling unhurriedly into a small, scarlet puddle.

I looked down on him uninterestedly. Rather, I found my eyes focused on the girl on the ground. During my reaping, she had died quietly, without a sound. Her eyes were partially closed, her blonde hair mussed and sticky with blood. Her thin body was laid in a sprawl, her limbs stuck outwards in horrid and unnatural positions. She had been broken with the crowbar that lay several yards away from the scene. The mother, whose skull was agape, a wide hole perforating her crown, had her eyes stared upwards blankly, mouth gaping in a silent scream. I couldn't help but feel a slight pain in my chest when I looked at the girl.

Something about her was all too apropos regarding my own life.

I hadn't noticed Drake come creeping up behind me. I felt his hands grasp at my fatigues, inadvertently pulling at my pant leg. I looked down and saw him staring, horrified at the dead women, and the now fallen beast that had killed them. His dark, reddened eyes stared, his mouth gaping slightly.

I felt the need to say something, anything, to him. "Are you sure you still want to come with me? This is what I do. This is normal." Drake looked up at me with glossy eyes. I tried to stay steadfast. "This ain't the kind of life for you, _seuntjie_…" He did not lower his gaze. I saw the same steel I had seen before when he stood up to me when we first met. That steel that was the result of a wretched life, that steel that was the only way to be strong when the monster inside wanted to tear you apart. Drake had monsters. I knew that he had probably seen more than an eight year old boy should. I knew he would not leave, not now.

"Then I guess this ain't the life for you, neither, Kruga."

The boy's words struck me like ice cold water. He was right. I hadn't wanted this life, but from the beginning I was meant for it. I was _bred_ for it. Even my _name _stated that I was a killer. All my life, I had wondered why those that bred me, hated me, why they had called me killer. A boy whose instincts told him to protect himself, to defend himself against the blows to his head and the leather to his back, should not have to question his existence before his fourth birthday. A boy who had to live with the strife of constantly pleading '_why mother, why father_' should not feel the need to remove himself from his young, harrowing world, regardless of the hatred around him.

It should not happen.

Not to anyone.

I would not let it happen again.

I crouched beside the boy, who stared at me with a permanent scowl of disbelief in the cruelty of the world below heaven. Without hesitation, he threw himself into me, wrapping his arms tightly around my neck, burying his face in my shoulder, sobbing hard again. Briefly shocked for a moment, I was paralyzed beneath the sudden gesture of trust and affection.

I blinked away a burning tear as I curled my arms around the boy.

"_Why did this happen?! Why!_"

I could feel the boy's pain like a knife in my stomach, like a sword through my heart. I hugged him tighter. "Shh… _Dit is in orde_…" I murmured quietly in Afrikaans. I tried to soothe him by speaking in his native tongue, telling him that everything was alright. Nothing would ever be the same for him again.

I now understood.

I understood why the boy and I were so alike, so almost eerily similar.

These were the broken remains of his family.

I had wondered why he had looked down when he asked to come with me. I had wondered why he wanted to come in the first place. It was not because he had nowhere else to go; it was because he knew he was going back to the place he had run away from.

"Drakey…" I tried again to console the crying boy, who had crumpled into my lap. That paternal feeling that had been gnawing at me from the moment the boy said he trusted me welled up inside once again, quelling the rage of the monster for a moment. This is what I had needed since I was torn from _her_. Distraction. Looking after Drake was all I cared about now. She controlled the monster yes, held its leash and fueled its fire, but so did I. Right now, I was in control of my own being. I was in charge, just as I should always be.

I looked out over the boy's shoulder. In the garden, I spied a flower with spiny-looking petals and a bulbous center. It was a common sugar bush, blooming with large, ice-pink flowers. Their beauty, otherwise unmatched, was demolished due to the sticky scarlet blood dripping from their triangular petals. Looking at them now, I couldn't help the flood of anxiety that washed over my brain, making it boil and sending my heart into a frenzied beat. I couldn't help but think of my flower, my flower that had been uprooted from my very arms, and kept above where I could not reach her.

I shed a tenacious tear and held Drake a little tighter.

About an hour of cleaning up later, Abbott, Crowe and I had cleared the scene, disposing of the evidence of our presence. I told Drake to stay in the Raven, not to come out until we had returned. He sat sullenly, no longer who he was before we dropped in on the family murder. I couldn't help but add another emotion to my growing repertoire; guilt.

It was my fault that Drake had seen what he'd seen, his mother and sister beaten to death by his stepfather. When I asked Drake about why he feigned ignorance when we met, implying that he did not know Veteriage, he looked me straight in the eye, unwavering as always. He said that there was no other way he could know for sure that he was dead. The boy knew all along what he was in for, though he didn't quite expect as much to find his beloved sister and mother dead, beneath the fists of the fat man.

But still, I had allowed him to come.

Drake would open up more about himself, about what series of events had led up to that afternoon, but for now I let him have his peace to come to terms with his new reality, the one without the family that had abandoned him.

I buried my guilt deep, something I was well-practiced at doing. the guilt would always be there, but knowing me, it would fester and bubble until I couldn't control it. I would address it later. For now, I focused on my next paycheck.

We set off for home, but not before we got an urgent message from Elysium.

Someone had fucked up.

_Really _badly.


	16. Chapter 15 - Escape

**XV**_Escape _

**Protea**

d All the alcohol in the world couldn't quell my apprehension, and my god, I needed a drink.

"Ow!"

Marcel gasped in pain as I accidentally crushed his hand in my iron grip. With a hasty, half-hearted apology, I released him. I couldn't focus on anything other than my imminent metamorphosis.

The doctor had finished preparing his workstation, which needed little preparation in the first place. I knew he was just wasting time, the bastard. And I had thought Kruger was a master of suspense.

"Are you ready to begin?" The doctor hovered over me, silhouetted ghoulishly against the glaring lights.

I didn't answer him. I waited for a long time.

There was no way out of this, other than forward.

I was trapped… again.

Never had I imagined my life would turn out like this. Paralyzed from the waist down, preparing to be healed with the most elite of Elysian technology, as a fugitive; all the while clenching the hand of a young, handsome, Elysian doctor who actually liked me. Even being here, on Elysium, under the best circumstances left me yearning to be back in a place I was constantly in danger. Back in that moment where I became irrevocably bound to one man, one monster, wherein a bout of bewildering pity and longing, saved him from death, if not forever, then for his nearest future.

Perhaps I should have left him there, left him dead. Surely I would not be in this situation I now found myself in. But then again, where would I really be? I'd be dead, but at the claws of Delacourt.

That was surely a worse fate.

Right?

I had no time to ponder.

With a brisk nod and pursed lips, I prepared my body and mind for the transformation. As I tried to swallow my instincts to run, the doctor wasted no time beginning the process.

A golden light washed over me. I heard the deep hum of a machine coming to life beneath me. I tensed, slamming my eyes shut so tightly they hurt. I didn't want to watch my legs, black and blue and bruised, melt back to my natural golden skin. I didn't want to watch my hair recede to the length I chose moments ago. I didn't want to change and I didn't want to see anymore.

The healing lasted for all of about seven seconds. It took longer for me to respond to the doctor's prompts.

"Hello, miss? Did you hear me?"

I blinked up at the doctor like a lost child.

"I said, are you ready to begin the transformation?"

Nothing has happened yet? I'm still me? "W-what?" I stammered, suddenly unaware of my surroundings.

"Just… Hold out your arm and lets begin," the doctor huffed, thoroughly annoyed. I complied and held out my arm. In a moment, I was a citizen of Elysium. Just like that, I could be healed of any illness, injury, like I was immortal. I stared up at the doctor against the harsh overhead light. He shifted away from my pitiable gaze and commenced the process.

I shut my eyes again and was immediately enveloped by a feeling of warmth. I felt a slight tingling sensation on my legs beneath the specialized hospital sheets. The tingling raced up to my pelvis, lingering there for a moment before spreading to my arms and chest. Finally, I felt the buzzing sensation before my eyes. I kept them shut, but curiosity begged me to look into the light. I swallowed the vehement urge to cry out as a single jolt of electricity ran through my body, waking me up from the momentary slumber I was put into. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the light of the operating room. When I did finally open my eyes, Marcele's amber ones were there to greet me.

"Marcele…?"

"Yes, Protea?"

"How do I look?"

He chuckled softly, a tear streaming down his face. "You look fine." I could not imagine why he was crying. It was me who had to cope with the fact I had changed my entire physical being. I could only imagine how long it would take to remember that when I looked in the mirror, I was still staring back. But still, it was Marcele who cried now.

I reached out to tenderly touch his cheek, to swipe away the tear and tell him with a soft voice how sensitive he was. As soon as I saw my hand, however, I screamed.

It was not so much a scream as a strangled chirp of terror. With new eyes, I scanned the rest of my body, ripping the sheet aside and forgetting dignity. I grasped at the pale flesh of my new body, as if trying to be rid of the alien visage. My hands groped at my face, fingers running feverishly through my new short hair. I uttered the strange squealing noise again, inviting a new look of shock from Marcele and the doctor.

I felt suffocated.

I had to get out.

The nearest door was a glass one with a sleek silver handle and a button pad. Needless to say, I did not waste time trying to open the door. With ludicrous strength, my leg rocketed out through the glass. The entire pane disintegrated beneath my foot, a reverberating ting hanging in the air. I heard a shriek of surprise from the secretary sitting just outside the office. She fumbled with the phone on her desk, chattering madly for assistance in B-wing. I wasted no time leaving the mess behind. I sprinted with inhuman speed down the sterile hallway, all the while forgetting that I was completely paralyzed not an hour ago. Several sharp turns and I was in a stairwell, zipping down the stairs, taking three at a time. Eventually, I was on the bottom floor of the grand white hospital. Sunlight beckoned me forwards through another pair of glass doors, which, fortunately, opened without the help of my foot. Not decreasing my speed, I kept running, even as I heard the wail of sirens somewhere beyond my left ear. Instinctively, I veered away from the sirens into the luscious tropical bush aside the hospital.

I did not stop running until I reached the point where the forest of palms and undergrowth met a vast expanse over-looking all of Elysium. I paused only for the mere fact that the view I saw before me was pause-worthy. Gazing out over the sunlit expanse of land and into the stars beyond rendered me speechless. I gazed up at the bright blue sky, and strained my eyes to see past the artificial light, into the inky black and blue depths of space. A single star twinkled in my vision. I realized with a stone in my gut, that I had no idea which way Earth was. If I was to truly escape, I would have to leave here, for good.

But how?!

Having your desperations answered on cue is exhilarating in a terrifying sort of way, and my desperations were answered in the form of a low mechanical hum, mere feet above my head.

I ducked low in the brush close to the base of a large palm tree. The glider came in at what would have been a relatively low speed, if I had not been standing directly beneath it. It zoomed past my head, sending me tumbling across the ground in its vortex. I tried to aim my tumble, and scarcely managed to stay hidden beneath the wide palm fronds. I struck a trunk, feeling a shooting but momentary pain in my shoulder. I quickly righted myself and glanced around for the glider. It had landed somewhere within the vicinity of the hospital I had just come from. I heard shouting male voices and the mechanized responses of Armadyne bots.

Feeling no fear, I jogged low to the ground like a predator tracking prey, towards the hospital and ship. I reached the end of undergrowth and peered with strained eyes at the glider. With a jolt, I went rigid with adrenaline. The ship that had landed was no standard issue craft. It had personality. It had history.

It was the Raven.

My eyes widened to their fullest extent, taking in all the explicit details of Agent Kruger's ship. I felt my heart hammering so hard in my chest, I thought for a moment it could actually break my ribs. I looked on with intent eyes. I briefly wondered if it was a problem that I no longer felt fear of anything, not even Kruger. For now, my lack of terror worked to my advantage. I felt no other need than to flee.

I watched for what felt like hours. I watched three men in sleek metal wires and bulky armour stalk slowly towards the hospital commotion. Their commander stalked further behind, trailing his men like a pack leader before a fight. He walked the same way he always had; with an arrogant defiance that stalled authority and made it question itself, with a look of hostility to match. His men carried machine guns loaded with who knows what. The three of them approached the hospital and started barking at innocent hospital staff, questioning what had happened and why they were needed on such short notice. The poor "security guards" yelped their uncertainty, begging forgiveness for calling the bloody mercenaries on a code red case. The three men were visibly peeved but complied, entering to search the interior of the hospital for the escaped patient that was once Protea.

I took the precious moments of time I knew I had to take the jaunt towards the Raven. Kruger would sense immediately that there was no escapee in the hospital and would soon be tracing the grounds. If I was not a stow-away on that ship soon, I would never see Earth again.

I reached the open hanger door and cautiously peered inside and out, watching ever so closely for passerby that might see me. Fortunately, there was no one in or near the Raven. I crept aboard silently, inhaling a familiar scent of musk and gunpowder and alcohol. Something about it made me glad it wasn't the over-sterile scent of the hospital or the dank scent of the prison. It was a real smell, unlike anything on Elysium. I caught myself silently craving for the familiarity of Earth, to be back with my friends and Spider, playing with his gimp little boy. I remembered he had shaggy dark brown hair like his father, and dark eyes that glittered when something exciting happened. His eyes resembled those of the boy that stood in front of me.

With sudden shock, I jumped in place, startled by the young boy who looked at me with wide, wide eyes. We stared at each other for a long period of time. I was the first to make a move. Slowly, I raised a finger to my lips, pleading silently for him to be quiet and just understand my desperation. He only stared at me with the same wide eyes, unmoving.

I tried appealing to him, by whispering urgently and looking over my shoulder. "Listen, kid," I scuttled around him, out of view, "I need to hide here. I need to get to Earth. I don't know if Kruger is holding you hostage, or delivering you to someplace, I don't care. All I need is for you to be quiet. Don't say a word, okay, little guy?"

I didn't actually intend to sound demeaning, but I supposed my urgency made no way for decency. The kid, who could not have been more than ten, suddenly blurted, "Who the fuck you callin' little guy, teef?"

I was taken aback at his sudden ferocity, and without thinking, I clamped a hand over his mouth. He responded by trying to bite at my palm as I dragged him further inside the ship. When he could not bite my hand, he took to licking at it. I yanked my hand away and released him, thoroughly disgusted. "Gah! You little pig! Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Drakey," he replied hotly, sticking his tongue out. "If you want some more of that, come over hea, then!" He made a rude gesture and I lunged for him. He ducked out of my grasp and ran to the other side of the ship.

"Argh! Fuck you, kid! I don't have time for this! Just shut the fuck up and listen to me!"

"Why should I listen to—"

"I need to get out of here. Please understand. Please. Help me."

Drakey took a moment to think about what I was asking of him. I saw his young face, hardened by the streets, soften in sympathy. His straight eyebrows furrowed deeply, and a pout crossed his lips. It looked before as if he was going to continue to stall, but whatever thoughts of bravery that had crossed his mind were dissolved. I looked at him pleadingly, listening at what I thought were the sounds of approaching mercenaries. When I heard the deep, rumbling roar that was Kruger's laugh, I went rigid with panic.

"Please hide me, Drakey! Quickly!"

He nodded briskly at my urgency, and motioned towards a small compartment beneath the seats of the hanger bench. "Over hea! They don't store kak in that thing. You'll fit fine." He quickly opened the container and I crawled in sideways. It occurred to me that I would be hiding beneath the place where I was first held prisoner. How bloody ironic.

Pushing my thoughts of bitterness aside, I slunk further into the darkness of the tiny container. Before he shut the container lid, I whispered a quick, "thank you, Drakey." He looked at me, and I swore I saw a tiny smile cross his lips before he hastily shut the lid and scampered across the ship. I held my breath as I heard the mercenaries thunder loudly onto the Raven. Drakey piped up with a merry greeting, clearly familiar with the rather vile men. I heard Crowe laugh and throw a jab at the boy, to which Drakey quickly and cuttingly retorted. The men settled in, and I overheard their coordinates for earth. They were headed for somewhere in India. The cockpit door shut with a click and the engines started. I listened for Kruger's voice, but did not hear it. Drakey shuffled in front of the container I was in, his voice muffled, but near me, protecting me. He was talking about how he'd like to become a full-fledged mercenary and a soldier of war. I heard a familiar, low grumble in response. Though I could not hear what he was saying, I could sense Kruger was disapproving of Drakey's choice of career.

So he's paternal, now?

How strange. To hear Kruger disapproving of a child's wants was like hearing a snake purr. It simply wasn't natural. Part of me wanted to burst out of the container and mock him for having parental instincts, however vague they were. I thought better, obviously, and stayed quiet.

"Come on, Kruga! You know I could handle it! I just need some more training and—"

"You don't git a chance to train for what you end up seeing, welpie. You already know that."

I could hear Kruger more clearly now. He must have been standing near the container next to Drakey. All of a sudden, I feared for my safety as well as the young boy's. I had no context, but it was all instinct. But aside from the possible and probable danger, I found myself wanting to know what exactly was going through Kruger's mind. Now, again, being so close to him, I felt that same draw I had felt laying with him after he saved me.

"But…" I heard Drakey sigh deeply. There was sadness in his voice, loneliness. I wanted to comfort the boy, given his kindness in helping me get back to Earth. However, the need to be hidden from the wolf pack was greater than my desire to chant 'there, there'.

"I'm taking you back to Saphrihi—"

"No! Don't take me back! I want to stay here! I'm not going back, even if you make me."

My, my, he's toying with fire.

"Drakey…" Kruger sounded exasperated. I could imagine this kid could really wear on your nerves, even if your nerves were made of steel like Kruger's. "You're not cut out for this life…" He took a moment to compose himself. "You're going home."

"Fuck you, Kruga! Fuck you!" The angry boy stormed off to the end of the Raven, kicking something that struck the bench and made a reverberating noise around my head. I jumped slightly, kicking the container myself. I froze, listening to the echo, praying Kruger and his hypersonic hearing didn't pick it up. I didn't breathe, for fear he could hear that too. Nothing happened for a minute. Kruger was silent, and so was Drakey. Only the hum of the Raven's engines persisted.

Moments trickled away like blood from a lacerated vein.

I could not take the tension.

"No! Wait! Kruga, stop!"


	17. Chapter 16 Or Not

**XVI (16)**_Or Not… _

**Protea**

The container lid opened with a jolt. I squealed in terror, frightened initially by the dark beady eyes that peered excitedly at me. When I felt a heavy hand drag me out of the container, I fell limp, simply so that I could save my energy for the fight about to ensue. As soon as I was able, I wrenched my arm free and bolted upright, instinctively grasping for the switchblade I always kept in my boot. When I felt no grip, I parried my attacker's next lunge and raised my hands defensively. I prepared for the next strike, tensing my legs, preparing to kick. All of a sudden, Drakey lunged in front of me, holding out his hands before him.

I remembered where I was, and realized that the boy had jumped in front of me to stop Kruger. The commander and I both wore a look of surprise and confusion.

"Drakey…? Git out of the way, _welpie_, so I can make our new guest feel at home…" With that, Kruger shot me a disgusting leer. It was something I hated to say I was used to, but it still revolted me. I shot a snarl back at him and backed away slightly. I leant down ever so slightly to whisper at Drakey, "What are you doing, kid?"

"Don't hurt her, Kruga. Stay away from the girl." The courage on the boy's face and in his voice was undeniably admirable. The way he glared Kruger down reminded me of the way an omega wolf challenges an alpha. He stared down a hulking alpha with black eyes with the courage of a lion. I was thoroughly impressed at his valiance. "B-back-off."

It was there, when he undoubtedly faltered, that Kruger stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. I thought for sure the child was dead. "Out of the way, Drakey. The grown-ups are to talk now. We need to discuss our… new guest's… seating arrangements," he slurred, eyes crawling up and down me deliberately slowly. "Isn't that right, miss? How'd you like to come share the captain's quarters with me, eh?"

"You don't touch her!" Drakey screamed, clearly agitated. It looked as if he were willing to die for me, which sent a strange feeling of warmth through me for the uncouth young boy. This outburst stopped Kruger, and he looked down at the boy with a stern look. It was not a malicious one, but a strict, frighteningly paternal one. He deliberated for a moment, and then sighed inaudibly.

"Fine." He looked to me. "Take a seat over thea," he growled as he pointed to the benches where I had sat once before, "and don't move."

He stalked away to bark at Crowe and the other pilot. Like an insolent child, I stood where I was, keeping a wary eye on the cobra and another watchful one on trembling Drakey. "That was a brave thing you did there, kid. I wouldn't suggest doing it again."

I took a willful seat after a couple more seconds of fiery Kruger orbs. I flicked my bangs aside and looked away from him. I was determined not to show fear this time and not give him the power of total superiority. When I felt comfortable, I looked to Drakey. "Thank you. You really saved my ass there."

He straightened out and returned to what I assumed was his normal self. "Well such a pretty one shouldn't be… You're welcome…" The blush in his cheeks betrayed his obvious crush. I laughed to myself and motioned for him to sit beside me. I did not ask Kruger for permission as I wrapped an arm around the boy's tensed shoulders. At least I knew this brave little cub was on my side. "How did you end up here then, hmm? In this pit of snakes…"

"Long story…" he whimpered. I didn't push him on the topic of his origin. Instead, I let him snuggle into my shoulder, as he seemed at ease lying against me, though he had just met me.

My eyes unwillingly searched out Kruger's, who approached as soon as our eyes met. He stalked over wearing the same leer he had on a moment ago. I remained stone-faced as he sat down a seat away from me. I kept my gaze locked with his, gritting my teeth against the natural fire of his coal-black orbs. The Raven gave a shudder as he spoke.

"Now… What's the reason you are on my ship, lass? Stowing away? You look pretty clean…" He leaned in and gave a deep inhale. I shuddered heartily. "Elysian then, eh? You wouldn't happen to know of a recently escaped hospital patient, considering it looks like you've recently _been_ a patient."

I went rigid. His observation skills were wickedly sharp, I had somehow forgotten about that. I self-consciously covered my identity scar. Before I could effectively hide it, he grasped my arm and pulled it towards him. His breath was hot on my face, but for once it did not smell like dead and rotting meat. It was only slightly pleasant at best, oddly enough.

"New citizen, eh? And you're running away. Funny girl," Kruger sneered, flinging my hand away. A brooding look passed across his face. He turned away for a moment, and when he returned to glare at me, his eyes were glossy. "Stupid girl."

"What will you do?"

It was a simple question, and a maybe a stupid one, I asked when I found my voice again. I felt Drakey perk up from beside me, his skinny body tensing once again.

Kruger looked furious and his eyes darkened ominously. He glared at me from under dirty brown bangs, just as he did when we first met. "Speak again, girl."

"What. Will. You. Do. Agent Kruger?"

He bristled from discontent at my arrogance. Remembering his pendulum temper, I braced for a slap, cut, punch, kick, even a bite. When nothing came, I stared him down again, holding Drakey tighter for moral support. Kruger only laughed a tight, strained laugh. His lips pursed, pressing themselves into a harsh line beneath his beard. The corners of his eyes crinkled, pulling the skin on his razor sharp cheekbones up higher. I noticed now he had bizarre metal implants in both his cheeks and in his neck. My eyes trailed down his chest, lingering near the one unfastened button at the top. Sheepishly, I ripped my eyes away when they trailed further down his chest to his lap. I felt a flush of red across my cheeks and looked down into my lap.

"What's your name, girl?" Kruger suddenly snapped. Cautiously, I answered that I didn't know it, given the fact that I had just received a new identity. He snorted, but seemed to buy it, and I was fine until he asked what my name before was.

"I don't know. Some flower…" I mumbled quietly. Before he could question me again, Crowe barked a command at the other man. Kruger stood from his seat, growling again that I stay put. He conversed with Crowe for a moment before he hurdled back to Drakey and I.

"Git your seatbelts on! We're in for a bumpy ride."

Confused, Drakey and I looked at each other, until we felt the Raven buckle in the air, making our stomachs churn. We complied quickly and clicked our overhead shoulder belts to the ones between our legs. Kruger did the same, this time next to me. I heard a low, "sorry, safety first" beside me but I did not care. Crowe bellowed the name 'Abbott' from the cockpit, and the Raven suddenly lurched upwards and sideways. I grasped my belt with white knuckles. If there was one thing I hated more than Elysium, it was flying.

"Boss! We need to land!"

"Keep going, Crowe! Git us _the_ _fuck_ out of hea! Don't stop until you reach Malichitda. Do _not_ disobey me."

In response, I felt the engines of the Raven roar louder than before, and I was pressed back into my seat from sheer speed. I felt like I wanted to vomit, but Drakey had beat me to it. The jump to hyper speed had all but squished the skinny lad. His face looked the same as mine; terrified beyond words.

The ride got worse as the ship ducked right, sending loose cargo tumbling across the hanger. With a sharp left, a large box filled with hell only knows what slammed into my legs. I yelped more out of surprise than pain, but the weight disappeared as Kruger gave a violent kick against the crate. I looked at him with honest gratitude, and with a nod of my head, returned to staring at my feet and trying not to vomit.

"Boss!" Crowe's distressed tone scared me. "We got to fucking land! _Now_!"

"Don't you—"

Before Kruger could finish his sentence, the Raven collided with something outside, sending a loud echoing sound through the hanger. A loud thundering reverberated through the ship, and eventually came to an end almost as soon as it had begun. All of us remained silent, thoroughly shocked from our less than smooth ride. Drakey was the first to stir, unlatching his belt and jumping over to the window. Kruger and I, more concerned with our own health, checked ourselves over quickly. Finding nothing broken, we both turned our attention to Drakey, who was staring wide eyed out the small window in the hanger door.

"You won't believe where we are…"

Curiosity overtaking me, I stood shakily from my seat, grabbing a nearby pipe above me for support. Kruger stood, wobbling only slightly, before stomping to the cockpit to unleash hell on his pilots. I heard him scream and bellow angrily as he demanded where we were.

I slid up beside Drakey, who was still peering out the window on his tip-toes. "Where are we?" I asked.

"Dunno…" he mused. "But it sure is white…"

I shoved the boy aside, who fought only briefly before surrendering his front row seat. I looked out the small window. My jaw dropped at the sight I held before me.


	18. Chapter 17 Chill Out!

**XVII**_Chill Out _

**Protea**

"_The_ _fucking_ _moon_?!"

Kruger had not stopped chanting that phrase for the ten minutes since we crash landed on the icy rock. "How the fucking _fuck_ did you manage that, Abbott? _Fuck_ _you_, you raging _kur_! How the fuck are we supposed to get off this fucking rock?!"

If one was not accustomed to the word 'fuck', they would certainly be acclimatized to it now. Luckily, all of us aboard were fluent in Kruger's abrasive tongue. He began shouting in what I suspected was Afrikaans, drowning out the interjections of his crew. I saw Drakey flinch and laugh several times as Kruger roared. He must know or speak Kruger's language, for he seemed to understand perfectly clear what the boss man was shouting.

This lasted for several more minutes, and by the time he was finished, Kruger's face and neck were beet red. If he were to kill anyone on this ship, I could only pray it wasn't me, the stow-away. He paced like a caged tiger, anger burning fiercely in his eyes. Behind the anger, I could clearly see fear. The humanity I saw in Kruger now was odd, and I was wary of it, afraid that the emotions he was showing were an act, a façade. However impossible it seemed, it seemed as though Agent Kruger had changed since we parted.

_I wonder if that's my doing…_

My speculation was short lived. Kruger glared down at me from my seat. "Get up."

With military discipline, I complied, bolting upright and even finding the audacity to salute him. The befuddled reaction I had gotten from him was worth the risk. As I rubbed my cheek, Kruger panted hard through his nose, trying to control his breathing. He looked at me, but he yelled at Crowe. "How long until we're up and running?"

Crowe had had enough of his boss's demanding tongue and thundered over to him. "We've blown a fucking engine, Kruger. A fucking _engine_!" He leaned in a little closer to his commander. "It's fucking Abbott's fault, boss. I say send _him_ out to patch the fucking thing."

Kruger considered this for a moment. "You know this ship better than him, Crowe. I trust you to git the job done right."

Crowe's eyebrows tipped up as his shoulders sagged in utter disbelief. I heard Drakey burst out laughing as he pointed a finger at the bewildered pilot.

"Ha-ha! Crowe's gonna walk on the moon!" He seemed to realize exactly what he was saying, and dropped his humor. Suddenly, with a burst of enthusiasm he shouted, "Can I go, too?"

Kruger rolled his eyes at the boy's ludicrous request. "Shut up," he snapped crossly. Drakey pouted exaggeratedly and flicked Kruger the middle finger. He crossed his arms and sat crumpled at the end of the bench.

Kruger returned his attention to me, anxious enough to address me without his usual swagger. "You're from the palace, ain't you? Got any contacts up thea that could fetch us down hea?"

My brow furrowed in confusion. I couldn't understand why Kruger was asking for Elysian back-up from a stow-away. I guessed that he was just as desperate to get off this bloody rock as I was.

"Who do you think I am? The FBE? No, I don't have any _contacts_ from Elysium. The only contact I have…"

"What, girl? Spit it out!"

I thought hard. Who did I know anywhere that could get a craft into space? Who _had _a craft? Who would be able to get me all the way up here, who owed me a favor for said craft?

"Spider…"

"Eh? The fuck you talking about?"

"Yes! Yes! I can call him! He'll come get me! Why didn't I think of that before?" I gasped for breath, and looked at the bewildered Kruger. "I need to use the radio!" Without an answer, I sprinted across the hanger to between the pilots' seats, trying to locate the radio. When I didn't find it, I shouted back at Kruger, "Where is it? The radio?"

Kruger stormed over, and Drakey hopped along behind. "What are you talking about, lass?" He grasped my collar, making me look into his eyes. I admit, I was still afraid of him, but for some reason it seemed like I had gotten used to his danger. _Bad ice to tread on, Protea_…

I swallowed my fear and steadied my gaze. "I have someone who might be able to get me – _us_ – out of here."

Kruger looked at me, and I swore I saw a glimmer of emotion behind his hooded eyes; hope, perhaps, or gratitude. "Where is he, then? This _Spida_?"

I answered quickly, not thinking straight. "Earth." I slammed my mouth shut immediately. Why was my mouth suddenly so loose? _Maybe I'm getting moon fever, maybe that's a thing_.

"W-what?"

Kruger _stammered_. He looked at me for a long time. Drakey piped up with something, but Kruger paid no attention to him. He was too caught up in his own thoughts, caught in the moment of looking at me. Looking _into _me. I found this moment more unsettling than any glare-down or violent outburst, not in the same way, but on a deeper emotional level. He released my collar, but kept his hands on my shoulders. His hands clenched tightly around my arms and he pulled me close to him, studying me at a closer proximity. I yelped in surprise and pain, confused as to what was happening or about to happen. I saw his lower lip tremble slightly and his eyes narrow with what seemed to be pain, until they crinkled upwards. It occurred to me that he looked older than before, but maybe that was just the unkempt status of everything about him. His beard was longer, too, like the "depression beard" my hacker friend once wore when his wife left him. Kruger had the same look of depression as Hullo had had. For a moment, I felt pity, real pity, for the once heartless cobra.

"What's wrong, Kruger?" I muttered blankly, genuinely concerned for my own safety at the moment. I knew a question like that could get me beaten, especially with Kruger being so nervous about being trapped on the moon.

He just stared, brow furrowed in concentration. Even when Crowe shouted in the background about what Kruger was doing, the commander didn't flinch. "It can't be…" He finally mumbled.

I froze.

"What did you say your name was, again?" he asked breathlessly.

What was he getting at?

"I didn't…"

"It can't be you…" Kruger muttered under his breath, mostly to himself. He lowered his head in the agony of remembrance. When he looked back at me, I knew he knew. His green eyes, his humanity, shone through the dull light of the hanger. I melted slightly. "P-Protea?"

If I had not been listening so intently, I would not have heard the tiny whisper. I felt a lump catch in my throat, either from fear or sentiment. For some reason, I felt relieved that I had been found out, but at the same time, I feared what would become of me now. And for some reason, I pictured Kruger rejecting my new form, and pulverizing it until I was unrecognizable. My fleeting thoughts were put at ease when he suddenly pulled me into an embrace.

I could feel the entire room still. Nothing and no one was moving. I evaluated my situation. It was beautiful and dangerous at the same time. Agent Kruger was _hugging_ me. I stared blankly over his shoulder, not moving at all. Kruger's arms quivered, and I could feel his muscles tighten around me in a sturdier embrace. I feared briefly that he would simply crush me. I was honestly surprised I hadn't been crushed already. But no, he simply held me. Cautiously, and unwillingly, my hands raised themselves to hover above Kruger's waist in my limited maneuverability. Then, without me telling them to, they wrapped themselves around him.

A sudden and violent wave of adrenaline washed over me. I didn't care where I was. I could be on Elysium, on Earth, or even on the moon. I didn't care. All I cared about was that I was in this man's arms. It was in that moment, I knew I was safe in such proximity to such a deadly serpent.

I felt my eyes burn slightly, and the lump in my throat got bigger and harder to swallow. In a gesture of true emotion, my arms tightened around Kruger's waist, and I leaned into his shoulder. I felt him stiffen nervously. His hands shifted, one remaining wrapped around my back while the other moved upwards. I felt a mild pinch in my neck, and fell limp against Kruger before plummeting into a deep sleep.


	19. Chapter 18 The Thorn In My Side

**XVIII**_The Thorn In My Side_

**Kruger**

_Why can't he just be rid of it? The gnawing, agonizing pain of a monster at the end of its leash? Why can't she just let him go? Why must she hold onto him in this way? Why can't he control himself? He needs to gain back control, but he knows it is pointless to try; he is in chains, and only she has the key to his heart. _

It had to be her.

I wasn't sure, but I had a hunch.

And for that reason, I had to drug her. She couldn't see me like this. Rather, I couldn't let my men see me like this.

I was never one to get caught up in my emotions, ever. I never showed my vulnerable side, especially not around women, and my crewmen knew that. But something about her, something about this girl, made insane. I despised the way she made me feel, so protective and cautious. I despised the way I was around her. She was so distracting. I can't keep my mind off her when she's here, but when she's in front of me, I want her gone.

But here she was again, unconscious in my arms. There isn't anything I can do to be rid of her, not now, when she had stowed herself upon _my _ship. On _purpose_. What was I to do now? _I suppose I could just open the hanger and let her tumble through space… _The ludicrous thought flared up and sizzled out rather hastily. I had risked my job and my life for this girl. I was not about to let her turn into an ice cube on account that I had not been fully repaid. She still owed me one after I had delivered her.

"Boss?"

Crowe approached me and the limp girl in my arms. He nodded at her then looked at me with a wolfish grin. "You first, or shall I?"

I shot a fiery glare at my deputy. He shrunk in stature immediately. "Back the fuck off, Crowe…" I growled slowly, putting on my threatening-but-apologetic face. Crowe understood not to fuck with me and backed off.

Returning my gaze to her, I lowered the girl I was sure was _her_ onto the bench seats. She looked so peaceful, just like before, only so much more different. Her face and hair had changed, and she looked younger than before. Maybe it was a tertiary sense, or maybe it was intuition, but there was something about her that I recognized instantly.

"Kruga!"

Drake yelped at me, tugging my fatigues. "Why'd you do that fuckin' thing for?" He leaned down to inspect the sleeping girl. "She said she had a way off this stupid rock! Why'd you drug her then, you perv?"

"I have my own ways off the moon, _bokke_, and if you'd like to come along, I suggest you shut your mouth!"

He went silent, thankfully, and curled up beside the girl. What his affection to her was, I'd never understand. Probably some boyish crush, like the kind of thing a young man experiences when he lives a normal life. I admired Drake for hanging on to his innocence, even after what he had seen of this life.

I stalked over to my pilots. I told them to ring up our comrades from Los Angeles and tell them of our situation. "And don't you take no for an answer. Any of them complain, you tell 'em I'll personally rip their spines out their assholes before I take their balls to their captain!"

"Hahaha! Yes, boss!" Crowe hooted enthusiastically. Abbott, as always, remained stone faced. _I really will kill him myself if he doesn't get himself killed first, _I thought to myself. And I would take pride in it.

"I want to be out of hea in ten minutes. If you can't do that, the door's thea. I'd suggest a coat too, it's a little brisk."

I took a reading of the Raven's coordinates and sent them to the LA base. In a matter of seconds, Crowe motioned me over to him. He held out the radio. "It's for you."

When I turned on the communicator, I heard a loud exclamation over the intercom. "_What the fuck, Kruger? You crazy bastard! What the fuck are you doing on the moon, jackass?" _I strode across the cockpit to answer the bewildered Lieutenant Brooks, a friend, but more of a pain in the ass.

"Mr. Brooks," I droned, mocking his Southern drawl, "it seems you got my coordinates?"

?"

"_Yeah! What the fuck are you doing on the moon, son?" _

"We had a little malfunction in the cockpit…" I glanced at Abbott, who had averted his eyes. "The problem will be dealt with when we get to Earth, I promise you that." I lowered my voice a little. "Why the fuck did you send this guy over anyways? He's a useless cunt. Doesn't even fuckin' say anything."

I heard Brooks take a deep breath. _"I honestly thought, if anyone could loosen that boy up, it'd be you, Kruger…" _I took his comment as a compliment.

"So what do we do now? Continue our little chat while the sun sets? Maybe you could see us on the moon, then, eh? Git the fuck up hea, man! It's fuckin' freezing!"

The radio crackled and filled with static after I heard a solid, "_yes sir"_. Left in silence and waiting on the promise of an I.O.U., the boys and I stared at each other blankly. I sat down beside the girl, shoving her limp feet aside. "Drakey! Fetch us a beer, will you?"

"Can I have one?" he asked hopefully. I deliberated for a moment. What kind of example would I be setting if I _didn't_ let him have one?

"Fine."

With a chipper step, he tossed out three cans to each crew member and stole one for himself. I watched him carefully tap the top of the can before slowly pulling the tab back. I, meanwhile, had already downed half the can, foam and all. A small puddle dribbled down onto the girl's leg, and she awoke with a start.

I felt myself go rigid with unease. I wasn't sure how this situation would go over now. She would still hate me, and she would want to get away from me as soon as possible. Should I ask her all the things running through my head? Should I say nothing and make them rot? _Fucking discombobulating girl…_

"What the…" she started hazily, waking up gradually. "What the… fuck? What the fuck!" She was awake now, and was angry enough to viciously punch my bicep. Fortunately, she hit a plate of bio-armour, and cradled her hand in response to the bite of metal. She was fuming, and boy, did she look dangerous. "What the fuck?" She demanded again, glaring at me hotly.

"_What_ the fuck?" I asked sarcastically, wanting to toy with her. She looked about to strangle me, and looked able to do it, too. "We're getting picked up, soon. Best conserve your energy for finding your way on Earth."

"No, I mean _what the fuck_? You _drugged _me? You sick bastard! Why did I even come back here…?" She trailed off, almost sadly. I cocked my head to look at her from below. Her head was bowed deeply in her hands, and her eyes were shut tightly. "Alright… That's good. But I'd still like to know what you did to me, you filthy—"

"Check yourself then. Ain't nobody gonna touch you with little Drakey around, eh _welpie_? He's like a fuckin' watchdog, that one. On guard for the innocent, eh?" Drake looked over at us, and smiled proudly. I turned back to the skeptical girl. "You're fine."

Needing to know for herself, she shifted around, feeling for any pelvic discomfort. When she screwed up her face in confusion, I knew she was pondering what had gone on during her blackout. "Thanks, Drakey," she mumbled half-heartedly. I shot a wink at Drake and a kissy face, who upon receiving it, reddened like a tomato. He curled up beside the girl and laid his head on her lap like a son and his mother. The scene was touching, but I couldn't help but feel a fleeting sense of jealousy as she stroked his hair. "You know," she began, looking down at the boy, "he may be a little brutish, but I think deep down he's just a scared little kid…" She deliberated for a moment before turning her attention to me. "How'd he end up with you, anyway? Recruiting at the age of nine now, are they?" she sneered.

"Long story," I stated promptly. "He came to me, really. Willingly."

"That makes two of us…"

I felt the need to say something comforting, but nothing came to mind. So I just said, "I'll get you to Earth, away from Elysium, but you have to tell me one thing."

She looked at me questioningly, but cautiously.

"Is it you, princess?"

She looked down, almost embarrassed. There was no avoiding me on this issue, and she knew it. A slight nod of her head sent a fresh jolt through my body.

It _was_ her.

But it wasn't. She had changed, not just physically, but psychologically. She wasn't the scared, snappish girl that she had been when I first encountered her. Since then, the events of the last week had changed her, made her not just into someone else, but something else entirely. The way she stared no longer held the pure poison of spite. Instead, her eyes were hardened like stone, almost no emotion leaking through.

I felt the need to look at her. My hand reached out to her chin, and before I touched her, she flinched and turned towards me. She looked offended, so I snatched my hand back. It was a strange reflex that never usually happened to me, save for that time I decided to tango with a mamba back home. It was if I was worried she would strike like the snake did. I knew she was the same; she could kill me if she wanted to. But for now, she just looked at me with sullen blue eyes. "When do your guys get here?" she asked quietly, trying not to wake the sleeping Drake.

"Few minutes now. Shouldn't be long," I mumbled, feeling genuinely nervous. "They're a bunch of jackasses, though. Wouldn't put it past 'em to be deliberately late…" Protea looked down again, nodding in understanding.

"I just want to get off this fucking rock…" She perked up. "Do we have enough oxygen in here? Like, enough for the five of us?"

"I don't fuckin' know. We haven't died yet, so I think we're fine, princess."

She went to retort, but froze and pursed her lips. Then she looked thoughtful. I swear I saw a smile cross her lips. My eyes couldn't help but linger there for a moment, even after she caught me looking.

"Well at least we'll be on Earth soon," Protea muttered sheepishly, her eyes flickering up and down.

"Yeah… At least…"

Abbott approached me with a guarded look, his hand raised slightly before him. I looked at him with my best 'fuck off' look, but he didn't quite get the message. "What the fuck is it?"

"Sir," the fuckup began slowly, "Lieutenant Brooks is inbound. He should be here momentarily." I mused, pouting my lip. I decided to give him a bit of a break, considering I would give him an actual break later.

"Thanks." He looked foolishly hopeful. "Now fuck off." He dipped his head and scuttled away with a more than audible curse. Ignoring him, I turned to Protea. "You good with Drakey, thea?" I asked, motioning towards Drake, who had woken up at the sound of his name.

"Yeah, we're alright," she smirked down at the boy, who glanced up then down with rosy cheeks. She leaned infinitesimally closer to me. "Honestly, he reminds me of my brother before…" When her voice faltered, I knew to leave her be.

"Alright, just keep him quiet when Brooks gits hea. Brooks ain't the kind of man to appreciate stow-aways. You stay quiet too." I thought hard for a moment. If we had to board their ship to leave, I'd have to come up an excuse for Protea and Drake. _Prisoners? Mother and son. _It was a gamble, but if there was one thing I was good at, it was gambling. "If anyone asks, you're mother and son—"

Immediately a caterwaul arose from the two of them, both protesting the idea, claiming each hated the other and that there was no resemblance whatsoever. I snapped at them to shut up, distraught enough already. They quieted, but now glared at me insolently. _What are we, a fuckin' family or something?_ The thought sent a stomach-vaulting feeling through me. _Eeugh…_

My radio crackled, then began to beep. I walked over to the cockpit and answered. "Brooks? Whea the fuck are ya?"

"_Circling overhead now, Kruger. Deploying kitten's claws." _At that, I heard the familiar squeal of Brooks' ship, the Panther, halt just above the Raven. I heard its specialized carrier clamps lock on the Raven's wings. _If he fucks up my paint-job I swear I'll rip his spine out through his asshole…_ I smiled at how often I used this threat. I rather liked it. Had a nice ring to it.

"It's about time, _bokke_. Now git us home."

"_Yes, sir. See you soon. Brooks, out."_

Communication cut and we began to move. I felt the craft rise in the air, and stumbled a little with a smile on my face. In all honesty, I couldn't wait to get off the fucking moon. I grasped the overhead bars and stared off out the hanger window, ignoring the stare from Protea.

When we got to Earth, what would she do? Where would she go? She had contacts, she could go to them. But would they take her? Would I have to force my hand? All these questions had hounded me since I figured it was her. One question that haunted me most of all was what I would do without her. Part of me knew I couldn't cope with another separation; I felt too attached to let her walk out of my life again. I couldn't cry again.

Space passed by loftily and quickly, Earth came into view. I saw my home continent turn away from me just as the sun peaked over the spherical edge of the globe. I was momentarily blinded but stared on. Anything to avoid her gaze.

As if guided by invisible strings, she staggered over to me carefully, grasping the same bar as mine and stared out the window with me. She didn't say anything, but I felt her gaze on me. I didn't want to look at her, and yet I did. Reluctantly, I glanced sidelong at her. _Damn,_ was the only thing I could think, for more reasons than one. I saw her pretend to look away nonchalantly, but return her blue gaze again.

"What?" I snapped at her, feeling like a trapped animal more and more each minute.

"Nothing…"

"Good."

Total silence.

"Good…"

Suddenly, the craft began to shudder. We were entering Earth's atmosphere. We would likely land back at the Americans' base. I never liked living in one place for very long, as I preferred to never stay long enough to leave a mark. I had homes, or whatever you called a series of provisional apartments, all over the world. But none of them were ever as fun as LA is, or used to be. Strip and night clubs on every corner, taverns, a back door to the black market; it was my type of paradise. A heathen like me favored the filthy over the frivolous. After all, the filthy have more fun.

As I was lost in thought, the craft shuddered again, making me stagger a foot backwards to balance myself. Protea had not been so lucky to catch herself, as she fell right into me, square against my chest. She stared up at me. Her eyes were like saucers, scared and uneasy. I couldn't help but naturally reach a hand out to steady her, while still keeping myself steady. She stiffened at my touch, but remained where she was pressed against my chest. Her face softened. She looked around my face, eyes flicking back and forth, up and down. Her jaw was slack, her mouth open slightly. I glanced down at her lips, wanting more than anything to lean forward and take them up in my own. Her eyes lingered on my lips, too, as she blinked slowly at them. The tension built feverishly, and I felt myself begin to pant ever so lightly. I knew what she wanted from me, then. She knew I wanted it, too. Protea's eyes closed in anticipation for that electric moment of contact. I almost did lean into her, ready to release my passion in a single kiss, but a winded exclamation from Drake stopped me cold.

"Whoo! Gotta love that turbulence, eh?"

I hadn't realized that a mere moment had passed. It had seemed like an eternity, the steady friction and lingering eyes. Protea sensed my disappointment but straightened out regardless, steadying her own feet before grasping the bar with both hands. She studied the ground in front of her, as if trying to wipe her memory of the intense moment. I reluctantly looked away, over to the pilots. Crowe was chatting idly about how much he'd like to take a couple days off before heading to India: hit the strip clubs, get blind drunk and start over again. Abbott looked gloomy as hell, knowing full well he was about to be relieved with a little extra pepper, because his boss _loved_ him so much. I wouldn't mind enjoying the Los Angeles to its full extent myself. Maybe I would just relieve my good pilot for a few days before heading to India. I gave Crowe a nod when he glanced over at me as he described me being a hard-ass. He grinned widely and began making plans of debauchery with Abbott.

I glanced over at Drakey, who had just exclaimed that we were close to the ground. I wondered what I would do with him, as well. He couldn't stay here, but I knew he wouldn't leave, either. Maybe we could put a couple of years on him the next time we were at a Medbay. I knew Brooks had one. He had kissed enough ass on Elysium that his commanding officers there had simply given him one for himself and his crew. _Lucky bastard,_ I thought, _he should owe me more than a lift for saving his ass all those years ago…_

Even as I made tentative plans for my crew and I, Protea still remained unpredicted.

I guess she would answer my questions when we landed and that hanger door opened.


	20. Chapter 19 Los Angeles

**XIX**_Los Angeles_

**Kruger**

_How much longer could he cope with the agony of uncertainty? This was worse than war. If he had survived the Apartheid, surely he could survive a broken heart? He had had his heart broken before, with a _sword_, but not even that compared to this. Loneliness. _

We landed, finally.

Never had I been so glad to get out of my own aircraft. I stalked out onto the shrubby desert grass and stretched my legs. The anti-gravity of space working against our artificial gravity took a toll on my muscles. I didn't realize it, but I had been tensing the entire time. But then again, maybe it wasn't just the gravity. Drake barreled out into the field beside me. _Shit_. Before I could warn him to get back, Brooks and his men had spotted the boy and grasped his arms.

"Fuck off, _teef_! Let me go, _bastaard_! You'll pay!" He kicked and struggled as Brooks brought him over to me. He shoved the boy down to his knees at my feet. I didn't flinch, merely levelled with my ex-commander.

"Quite a mouth on this one, eh? Ain't that right, boy? You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Brooks taunted. He unleashed the hellion.

"And yours, too, _piel kop_!" Drake spat directly upward. With a generous arc, it landed squarely on Brooks' forehead. A priceless look of disgust crossed the lieutenant's face as he wiped the gunk off his face.

"Where'd you find this rat? I hope you have a good exterminator…"

I laughed heartily. "Dug him up in your wife's _poes, poepol_." I lowered my hand without lowering my eyes. A clap of victory echoed across my palm as Drake slapped it.

"English, goddamnit, Agent 32! English so I know what you're saying!"

"Trust me, sir, you don't wanna hea what I'm saying…" I shot a wicked grin at Drake, who returned it with equal mischief.

"Well, I don't care. What do you plan on doing with this runt?"

I looked down at Drake, who looked pleadingly up at me. He knew I wanted to leave him here, back where I had found him, but I knew I couldn't. He would stay no matter what, no matter how hard I tried to shake him. "I plan on doing with him whatever I please." Drake looked scared for a moment. "He stays with me." With a look of relief from Drake and an eye-roll from Brooks, the lieutenant began to walk away without a word. Then, he turned on a heel and pointed a finger at me. "This makes us even, Kruger. I don't owe you anything. Not anymore. Okay?"

"Alright then, _bokke_," I snorted, amused at his nervousness. With that, he and his crew walked away from the ruins of the Raven. My poor ship had one busted engine, broken beyond repair, and a tear in the primary walling. The only reason we hadn't suffocated in space was that outer reinforced hull. I can safely say that it's saved my ass more than once.

"Hey, Kruga…?"

Drake tugged at my shirttail like a lost child. "Where am I gonna live? I mean… I ain't got a home anymore, and I'd been living with you on the ship for the last day or so, so… I dunno… What am I gonna do?" He was a lost child. I hadn't thought about arrangements. I was thinking, in the long run, he would be trained and suited up for the job, older and eligible to be a legitimate crew member of mine. But for the near future, I had not thought of it. And now, with Protea on board, I had even less of a clue as to what to do with either of them.

Curious, I walked over to the Raven as Crowe began making arrangements to have the ship fixed. Abbott sulked around, still waiting for his abysmal dismissal.

Protea was sitting in the hanger where I had told her to wait. She looked up when I came in and bolted upright. "Are you going to let me go?" she asked breathlessly.

"I was neva holding you in the first place," I noted glumly. "You escaped me, remember? I thought that was reason enough to let you off the hook. Delacourt's done with you anyways. She ain't on your trail anymore. I'd suggest laying low, princess."

She responded with a quiet "don't call me princess" and crossed her arms in deliberation. "I honestly never thought I'd get this far… I mean… Getting healed after the _accident_," she sneered at me as she said this, "getting a new identity, inside and out. And Marcel… I mean, I just left him. I stranded him, without a word! He must be so worried! I should—" She suddenly stopped ranting. Her eyes blazed. "I should report you!"

"What the fuck?"

"Yes! I should report you! I should say you kidnapped me! I could go to the authorities as a new citizen and get you arrested for putting me through all this! I'll send you to jail for the rest of your life, you crazy motherfucker."

"You're the one who's crazy, you know that, eh? What the fuck are you talking about!" I demanded, getting increasingly agitated.

"I'll do that! Yes! My case will hold up in court, and Marcel will vouch for me. He'll agree I'm a victim of the venomous Agent Kruger!" She strode up to me and punched a finger to my collarbone. "I've got enough on you to lock you up forever, space hobo-" _What the fuck? _"-and you'll rot in a real prison, not the daycare they run on Elysium."

She stared intensely, crazily, at me with wild eyes. She was clearly delusional. _Maybe moon fever is a real thing. _"You nearly done, princess?" I growled.

She glared. "Not nearly." She lurched forward suddenly, her head aimed right for my jaw I thought she would head-butt me, then flee. I certainly would. I think I'd prefer the head-butt to this.

She _kissed_ me.

Her lips hit mine with such fierce passion, I staggered back slightly, totally taken aback. I stilled, not wanting to move a muscle, I even shut my eyes because I knew there was no way this could be happening. It lasted a few seconds, then she broke away, sputtering to herself in disbelief. A look of shock was plastered on her otherwise pretty face, contorting it strangely. My eyes snapped open just in time to see her sprint out the hanger door. I raced after her, slipping on the metal floor. When I got up, I flung myself out of the ship, my head whipping around in every direction. I noticed Drake, Crowe and Abbott shouting happily amongst each other. I barked at them if they had seen which way the girl went. When neither pilot disclosed anything of use, Drake sprinted over to me. As I stood panting, he anxiously asked, "Where did she go? Where did the girl go? What happened? Why'd you let her get away?" 

"You were supposed to know!" All my desperation poured out suddenly. My exasperated wail caught the attention of Crowe and Abbott, who jogged over to me, guns at the ready.

"What is it boss—"

"The girl!"

"What?"

"Where did she go? Which direction?!"

"Kruger, I don't—"

I shoved my way past the two of them. I looked desperately for a trail of dust, or something else to indicate which way Protea had run. When I saw nothing, I sunk to my knees. I felt my jaw go slack and I knelt, mouth gaping in disbelief.

She was gone again.

_Gone_.

The darkness bubbled up inside me once again, shredding my insides, as I cried out into the hot Western sun.

**Protea**

I didn't move from behind old gas pump, I scarcely moved a muscle. Even as I heard his agonized wail carry across the desert, I tried hard not to flinch.

I had a preconceived notion that Agent Kruger could not feel pain. Especially not emotional pain.

But I have been wrong before.

And I was so wrong now.

I never thought I would feel the sharp guilt I felt now. Guilt for _him_.

_He_ had brought this on me. _He _had destroyed my life. I told myself this over and over and over but I knew it just wasn't true.

It was true I was scared for my safety when he captured me under Delacourt's orders, and it was true he hurt me more than once. But all the same, he had redeemed himself each time he wrought punishment upon me. He had saved my life, whether or not I'll admit it, _twice_. He stopped Tweedy from doing who knows what to me. He had somehow helped me escape the CCB. He had even begun my healing process by taking me to some random citizen's house.

Kruger had put his job, his crew, and his life on the line to save me, to keep me from harm. _But why? Why was I so important to him?_ Those were questions I had once asked myself. Now I think I knew.

He lovedme.

In his own twisted, Kruger-ish way, he _loved_ me. That cry, usually reserved for the over-dramatic wail of an actor on set, was all real, raw emotion. I wasn't sure if it was the volume and tone of it, or the fact that it was in fact pure anguish. Anguish _I _had caused him. For all the times I wished ill upon him, I now sought to take it all back, regardless of everything else. Because I was felt the same kind of twisted love for him, too.

Though, perhaps, I truly was delusional.

_It must be some kind of syndrome or something! _My scattered conscience tried to rationalize this situation.

_You don't actually love him! That's impossible! There's so much wrong with him, so many reasons you can't love him!_

And yet, I effectively ignored the wailing conscience in my head.

_So many reasons I can't love him…_

Maybe that was it then. The more I pushed away, the closer I got, like being in a hole of sand. The harder you struggle, the tighter the sand compacts around you. I could feel the sand tighter than it had ever been. Especially after that kiss…

A cry escaped my throat, and was matched by his, effectively creating a ghoulish echo across the desert field.

**Kruger**

Even as the cleanup crew came and went, I didn't move. Stubbornly, I stood staring out into the desert, refusing to acknowledge anyone unless I needed to. Eventually, the coolness of dusk settled on my shoulders. The Raven's crew had gone home in friends' vehicles, while the ship was airlifted out of the vacant lot. Only Drake remained by my side, adorned in an oversized vest and fatigues. He knelt by my side contentedly, looking out in the same arbitrary direction as me.

"Did she mean a lot to you?"

I only nodded, truly not knowing how to answer that particular question.

"I liked her, too. Not like, just physically, I mean… She made me feel safe, you know? Made me feel… good. You know?"

"Yeah, I know, Drakey…" I murmured, trying to blink away the sting in my eyes. "I know what you mean."

We stayed there for about twenty more minutes, until Drake began to shiver slightly from the light drizzle that had begun. I nudged him to his feet. "Let's git you to out of hea. Git you a nice bed, clean water. Come on."


	21. Chapter 20 We The Scavengers

**XX**_We The Scavengers_

**Protea**

I had left the vacant lot for fear of being discovered. I'm not sure how long Kruger stayed there for, but I know he stayed long after I had gone.

From here, I had no idea what to do. I would have to find shelter for the night until I could make a permanent residence somewhere. Being back in the slums of LA made an arrogant part of me once again yearn for Elysium's rolling hills and fresh air. Fortunately, the thought of Delacourt snapped me out of my delusion. This was my home, just as it had been for the last three years. I had been through hell to get back here, and for what? I was useless here. There was no way I could fund anything, for I didn't have a penny to my name.

I would have to find Spider. He would help, and if not him, his men.

Tracing the streets with ingrained familiarity, I tracked my way through throngs of people to a shabby old pawn shop. Above it, I knew lived one of Spider's own, who also happened to be a good friend of mine. I rapped on the shop door, which had a sign with the words CERRADO/CLOSED on it. A voice from inside shouted in Spanish, then in English, that the shop had just closed and that I should come back tomorrow. When I didn't stop, the source of the voice came thundering over to the door to silence me. When the owner arrived at the door, she cursed angrily once more in Spanish and told me to fuck off.

_Shit. I forgot._

"Get out of here, _rata_. Shop's closed! _Cerrado!_" She was about to walk away when I remembered the pivotal mantra we all shared.

"_El cielo a la tierra, tierra a la cielo_," I said through the glass. It was Spider's personal motto, which he had taught to us all in training: "heaven to the earth, earth to the sky". It marked our goal to bring down Elysium and deliver it to those who needed it on Earth. Rosa Belliros, the shop owner and my friend, was suspicious now but gave me a second shot.

"Who are you? How do you know that mantra?"

"It's me, Rosa. Protea."

"Protea, huh? What's the name they call my mother?"

I laughed, remembering vividly why Rosa's mother was referred to as "the Bulldozer".

"_Excavadora!_"

With wide eyes, Rosa unlatched the door. She stood studying me for several long moments before I asked if I could come in. She nodded briskly and showed me in. The shop was air-conditioned and smelled of cured leather and old metal. The door clattered shut behind me and Rosa rushed over to grasp me. She held me at arm's length with a confused scowl on her face. "How it that you, Protea? _Dios_ _mio_… Why do you look _calente _all of a sudden, eh?" She gave a strained chuckle as her eyes began to tear. "I thought you were dead. When they cornered you… I thought they had… _Ah_…"

"It's been a long couple days, Rosa, I'll say that much. Listen, I need a favor. I'll explain the facelift after," her horrified face told me she would not let me sleep until I did, "but for now I just need a bed. Please, can you help me, Rosa?"

She looked hard at me, trying to decide if it was really her old friend behind such a different visage. She paused before she spoke. "I really do think it's you, Protea. I just can't understand how you're here."

"Neither can I," I admitted honestly, "I've seen a lot of things, and been through hell. It's a fucked up world I live in, Rosa…" I choked up and fell into her arms, utterly exhausted. She stumbled slightly under my deadweight, but I knew she could support me with her strong and slender frame.

"_Chicka…_ Relax!" she soothed, slinging my arm over her shoulders. "I'll let you have the couch for tonight, and you can explain to me tomorrow what you have been through, okayee?"

Eventually, we made it up to her apartment. I collapsed on the couch and shortly after, she threw a blanket over me. She offered me water, which I accepted gratefully. Water dribbled down my cheeks and mixed with my tears. Rosa sat down beside me and rubbed my shoulders as I cried. She soothed me, and eventually, I was able to relax, finally feeling safe.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell into a deep sleep. Just before I drifted into a deep slumber, I realized I could still taste Kruger's lips on mine. Even though it was imagined, the taste of blood reminded me to stay away from the cobra for as long as possible.

I awoke to the aroma of breakfast burritos being cooked with bell peppers, a smell I learned well when I was living with Rosa before. The alluring smell of breakfast lifted me out of my swath of blankets and into the tiny apartment kitchen. Rosa was busy cooking and didn't notice me until I sat down at the tiny two-seater table.

"_Buenos dias_, _rata callejera_," Rosa teased good-naturedly, no doubt referring to my street rat appearance. It was true. I really did need a shower.

"Hey, Rosa, could I—"

"By all means, use all the soap!" She laughed and expertly flipped the burrito in the frying pan. "What do you plan on doing now? I mean, you can stay as long as you need to, but… Is there someone after you?"

"No! Rosa, no! Of course not!" I half-lied, "if there were someone after me, I wouldn't put you in danger by coming here."

"_Gracias_, _mi amiga_," she sighed. "But what happened? Start from where we got separated at the base."

I regaled her with my journey in the last several days, subtly censoring the bits about my flighty emotions and raging libido. Even hearing it from my own mouth made it sound more like a bad science fiction tale. _I should get a movie deal for this shit_, I thought grimly. Rosa's reaction shifted from horror to disbelief to grief to humor and back to horror as I recounted everything I could remember. She didn't ask any questions, as she was often the strong-and-silent type, but her face said it all.

When I finished, her eyes lit up. "So you just walked away? Like _that_? And he let you go?"

I looked at her solemnly. "Yes. I stole away when no one was looking."

"What about the kid? Will he be okay?"

"I hope so. I think he actually saw Kruger as a role model." I made an overdramatic face of disgust, and Rosa laughed.

"Maybe he'll come to his senses, eh? Man… Your life _is loco_, _amiga_… But what are you going to do now? Are you going to Spider?"

"I was thinking of that, yeah." Maybe if I tried hard enough, I could get my old job of hacking into military bases back. _Yeah, like I'll make that mistake again_, I thought sardonically, making a mental note to stay as far away from the military as possible. "Do you think he'll take me back? I mean, will he even believe that it's me?"

"If he doesn't, I'll make him believe it!" Rosa flexed her arm in a show of dramatic macho flair. We laughed and organized to leave for Spider's at noon. I finally showered for what felt like the first time in a week. I had been tentatively washed by one of Marcel's regular Armadyne bots, which had felt more like a steaming than a cleaning. But not even a hearty shower could wash the feeling of Kruger from under my skin. I imagined that I could still feel his breath on my skin, and the taste of his lips on mine.

With a loud groan, I titled my head back and let the water fill my mouth before I coughed it out. Now the only thing I tasted was the chlorine-tang of LA house water.

We arrived at Spider's precisely at noon. I felt a shudder of discomfort being back here at the underground lair. Though it was the middle of the day, I could see into the dimly lit, cloaked alleyway filled with an array of people dancing, doing drugs, and other obscenities. Neon lights illuminated the alley with pink, purple, yellow and blue patches. I knew the lights acted as a cover for Spider's high-tech nest hidden deeper inside.

Rosa and I waded through throngs of people. I was jostled and pushed around as I made my way through to the guarded entryway. I could hear a familiar voice booming over the music the nearer I got.

The man in charge stood out like a sore thumb. He was nearly three hundred pounds, with a face like a dog's ass. He sported a long scar that ran down the length of his face to the edge of his furry collarbone. He had a voice like thunder and an attitude like lighting. This was Rodrigo "Spider" Sanchez-Mendita, the vainest and most selfish philanthropist I knew. He stood looming in front of a large monitor glowing orange with the blueprints of a military storehouse. He was barking at others gathered around, discussing the possibility of breaking in and stealing materials. One of the men with him piped up about how breaking into the militia would be impossible, and that they could get the same parts they needed by scrapping cars.

"No! No! We need the reinforced hulls! _Those_, we can only find on those ships! How the _fuck_, are our crafts supposed to last a _minute_ in _space_, _without_ a reinforced hull?!" He smacked the poor, wise man. "Figure out another way in."

Rosa chose now to approach the fuming beast. He noticed her and changed his demeanor immediately. "Rosa! My dear! I hope you have brought me some _good_ news."

"Yeah, Spider," she began confidently. "I got some new information about another storehouse just two miles from this one," she gestured to the prints on the screen, "that has more stuff and less man-power."

Spider smiled widely. "That _is_ good news. And who is this plus one of yours? How did she make it past the gate?" He glared suspiciously at me now.

"She knew the mission code. This is Protea Angelico."

The boss man looked from me to Rosa without changing his hardened expression. "Do you expect me to—"

"_PROTEA!_"

A happy, high pitched squeal came from somewhere behind us. Out of the darkness came a young boy, about six years old, with a crutch and brace around his skinny leg. He bore a striking resemblance to his father, only a hundred times cuter. He hobbled forward excitedly, glittering eyes trained on me. When he reached me, he flung himself into my arms and gave me a might bear hug.

"Protea's back! Protea's back!" he yelled happily, hugging me tighter.

I was shocked. I knew this boy well. He was the bright and shining heir to Spider's technological underground kingdom, Antonio. But I was confused as to why he was showing me such affection when I looked completely different.

The others were shocked as well. "Antonio! Get away from her! _Vamanos, niño!_"

"But it's Protea! She's finally back!" he squealed happily, hanging onto me.

I was flabbergasted. "H-how did you know it was me, Antonio? How are you so sure I'm Protea?"

He looked up at me with big brown eyes. "_Su sonrisa_," he purred. I understood that. _My smile… _I took the boy up in my arms and spun him around, utterly grateful there was at least one person who had boundless faith in me. The sentiment agitated Spider further, as he was unsure of what was actually going on.

"Who are you," Spider demanded fiercely, glaring at me like I was truly a rat. His suspicion hurt me. Seeing him turn his keen interrogation skills on me was awful. I had become good friends with him and his boy over the last three years, and now I felt utterly alone under his murderous gaze. _I wish he would just believe me, but it seems I have to prove myself._

"It's me, Spider. I'm Protea Angelico."

"It's true," Rosa chimed in, "it's a really long story, trust me, but it's worth the time to listen."

She began to tell my story in rapid Spanish, unable to control herself. I stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, holding Antonio in the other.

"I'll tell you myself, but you must believe that it's me. Please, Spider, I'm begging you."

He gave me a curt nod and told me to sit in his office with Rosa. She would vouch for me. Antonio insisted on staying clamped to my chest, so I let him hear my tale as well. When Spider finally graced us with his attendance, I began to sow my story yet again. And again, I left out all the close encounters of the romantic kind. Spider listened intently with a grim expression the entire time.

When I finished, Spider looked blankly at me and the profusely nodding Rosa. Suddenly, he chortled loudly and waved a dismissing hand. Rosa and I looked at each other confusedly before leaving the jiggling bowl of fur in his office.

We sat anxiously awaiting the boss' verdict. I sincerely hoped he would believe me and my story's authenticity. My future depended on it.

Finally, Spider re-appeared in the doorway. He wore a dark, grim expression. I was about to be thrown out by three heavily tattooed, muscled men into the gutter, I knew it. So I waited with a knot in my stomach for the order to be given. I looked pleadingly at Spider again, praying to whoever was listening. Spider looked at me, as well, the same dark and scary mask on his face.

Maybe mask was the right word.

Spider suddenly swiped upwards with his hand across his face. Immediately, the fury had disappeared and was replaced by a friendly, even goofy, smile. It was if he wiped the anger from his face.

Of course, this act was supposed to be comical, but I found it at the very best, repulsive.

_He knew it was me all along! _

"You son of a bitch! Fuck you, Rodrigo Sanchez!" I fumed.

"Actually, it's 'Sanchez-Mendita' now. Got it hyphenated for Maria's sake—"

"You scared me to death, you lard-ass! I thought your bulldogs were going to rip me apart!" I roared at him, fists balled tightly. He must have enjoyed his joke, for now he was doubled over in laughter, shaking like a bowl of gelatin.

"Ah ha! I knew it was you all along, Protea, I… I… I… I just wanted to… to… get you going!" He could hardly string a sentence together, he was laughing so hard. "_Your_ _face_! Priceless!"

I shook my head in fierce disapproval. "_Poepol_," I muttered, making no bother with volume restriction.

He quieted for a moment. "What did you call me?"

I smirked. "_Asshole!_"

He broke out into another bout of laughter. "That's a good one! Where did you learn that?"

"Picked it up in my travels…"

The afternoon passed with the crew asking questions about my absence and clanking beers with me whenever I said something remotely adventurous. Questions like, "how did you get out then" and "well, how did you get out _that _time" were among the most popular inquiries. I tried to answer as best I could with the tequila flowing through me and the beer bubbling in my bloodstream. I hoped that when I began to get _really_ chatty, I didn't reveal too much about my journey.

I remembered talking about Delacourt, Marcel, and Tweedy and Crowe. Even Drakey made the marquee sometimes. But the subject that obviously dominated my conversation was Kruger.

Whilst the crew drank and celebrated my return, I managed to slink away out onto the balcony I so often enjoyed. I gazed out over the main street and into the distance. The bigger, wealthier city of Los Angeles, what I had heard was once the entire city, glittered like stars on the horizon. A musky purple-pink hung over the city in a blanket of smoggy light. I was reminded of the view I had beheld that first night of being rouge, the night I had fallen asleep in Kruger's arms. The setting sun had struck the glass of the habitat in a way that a flare shone through it, across the suburbs. It seemed strange to me that such an artificial thing could behold so much natural beauty. But it seemed that beauty could be found in nearly anything, even the deepest fathoms of a black and broken heart.

It felt normal for Kruger to be lolling about in every concurrent thought of mine. Even things that had nothing to do with the mercenary, I always seemed to find a way to link it to him. Now that I was free, I was trapped even more.

I resolved myself.

I had to find his good side again, and stay there.


	22. Chapter 21 Poison

**XXI**_Poison_

**Kruger**

_He had thought himself the deadliest serpent about, but not even snakes are immune to all venom. _

I returned to my two bedroom apartment with Drake. He immediately took to the rotten place, running from each room to the next, even jumping on the couch like a little kid. It occurred to me that he had never actually had a home with a roof before. However much I complained, at least I grew up with a rudimentary roof over my head.

"Is this my room in hea?" he shouted from the room opposite to mine at the end of the hall.

"Uh, yeah, Drakey," I shouted back, still uncertain of this whole situation. That one move of mercy that I had shown the boy landed me in the position of babysitter.

I could feel my eyes roll back in my head as I heard the creaking bedsprings beneath an intermittent weight.

"You'd betta not be jumpin' on the fuckin' bed, _welpie_!" I warned. The sound immediately stalled. I couldn't help but laugh to myself secretly. I dropped my armour but kept my sword in hand and paced down the hall towards the rooms. I was hoping to scare Drake with the katana, striking at him as a joke. When I looked in, Drake was sprawled out on the double bed, facedown in a spread-eagle, sound asleep. I looked on with slight jealousy. I couldn't remember the last time I had been in such a deep slumber. My entire life, I had been wracked with nightmares, never able to sleep deeply unless I was sedated. I rolled the katana in my hands, thoughtful. Everything seemed to be at peace for the moment, and that's why I was uneasy.

I had never been one for peace. I thrived on violence and debauchery, but I couldn't indulge in my usual pastimes. Not with the young Drake literally next door.

What if he needed me? Woke up in the middle of the night screaming as I often did? If I were gone, what would he do?

Part of me knew he would survive on his own, with or without me. For now, though, I wanted him to survive _with_ me.

Exhausted from the day, I paced to the tiny apartment kitchen to down one last beer before hitting the sack. Sword in hand, I popped the lid with an experienced thumb and downed half the bottle in a single gulp. I knew that if I let my mind wander, it would wander to Protea.

And so it did.

I lost count as to ho many beers I had drank, but all I knew was that I didn't have enough to get her out of my head. Finally, when I felt the call of blackness, I collapsed on the couch and fell into a shallow, dreamless sleep.

I felt a harsh prodding on my right shoulder. Drake's voice was muffled in my ears, a consistent drone in my ear. With the katana still in my hand, I shoved him away with the hilt.

"Fuck off, Drakey…" I growled, a hangover beginning to rear its ugly head.

"Kruga…" the boy whined, indifferent to my foul mood. "I'm hungry! And you ain't got _no_ food in hea."

"Thea's some in the pantry. Canned shit."

"No there isn't. There's _nothing_ hea!"

The tone of his voice caught me. Frowning, I raised myself on trembling arms, a sharp ache throbbing in my temples. "What the fuck do you mean, thea's nothing hea?"

"I mean," he droned, "thea's nothing in your fuckin' house! No food, no water, no nothing!"

I got up to investigate what he meant. I scoured the living room and kitchen. All that was around was empty beer bottles and layers upon layers of grime. But the boy was right. Everything else was gone.

"What the fuck…" I muttered, bewildered. "Who would take my shit?"

"Crowe maybe? He's a cheeky fucka, you know that. Or maybe Abbott. Ken-doll fuck probably did it to git back at you for cannin' him. Or maybe—"

"Shut up, Drakey, I'm trying to think," I snapped. I ignored his snarl of protest and scanned the area for signs of intrusion. Luckily, there was enough dust to betray slight footprints. I saw mine, to the fridge and back a dozen times, and I saw another set of tracks. Female, from the size of them, in small hiking boots from the look of the tread. I repeated these fact to Drake, who swooned in awe.

"You're kind of awesome, Kruga, you know that right?"

I would have to save the ego inflation for later. For now, I was set on tracking who ever trudged their way through my shithole of a home while I was passed out. The tracks were fresh, and leading out the balcony window. Upon closer inspection, an insignia was carved into the heel of the boot.

"A spider, eh? Well then, we simply have to find the maker of these intrusive steps."

Head still throbbing, and morning dwindling, Drake and I made our way through several alleys tracking the footprints. Fortunately, it had rained overnight, making the clay in the ground act as a casting material, betraying my personal thief. I pointed out certain aspects of the trail that made it so easy to follow to Drake. I made note of how to tell direction, gait, distance, and health status of someone from the way their prints were laid. The boy gawked as I absentmindedly showed him everything I knew about tracking. For a moment, I felt genuinely proud of myself for passing on my skills to someone else. It felt good to know that I was being taken seriously when I was not threatening a life.

As I was describing the details of an in-step, Drake piped up. "Do you think you'll find that girl? I mean, I'll help, but… I mean you know her better than I do, obviously. You do, don't you?"

_Obviously?_

It scared me to think that I was that translucent, that anyone could look at me looking at Protea and realize that I knew her well. But then again, Drake wasn't just anyone.

"Yeah, I know her pretty well," I mumbled.

"Do you hope you'll find her?"

"Yeah… I do."

The details of the footprint had begun to go fuzzy. I found myself teetering slightly. All of a sudden, my armour seemed twice as heavy as it had before. The burlap cloak wrapped around me like a suffocating net. I began to wobble on my own feet. My hand struck the wall for support, and I felt a dry heave wrack my body. Drake's voice issued a mocking tone, exclaiming that I couldn't hold my liquor. I knew something wasn't right, so I ignored the boy's regular taunts and tried to focus my breathing, which was now becoming fast and shallow. Black spots began to form in my vision, and I soon collapsed. My head was spinning. Drake's voice pitched high with worry as he realized I wasn't faking. As I crumpled to the ground, apparently paralyzed by whatever was in my system, he guided me into a fetal position. I had no time to marvel at the boy's instincts. For now, I was a victim of whatever was happening to me.

"Help! Someone help!" Drake yelled anxiously. "Just stay here, I'll be right back," he reassured me through my haze. He sprinted off into the streets and left me crumpled in the alley.

I felt myself on the brink of passing out. It would not be long before I blacked out completely. What had happened to me? This was no normal hangover, if it was a hangover at all. I had been drugged.

By what, I had no idea.

By who, I would certainly find out.

**Drake**

People would not move out of the way fast enough. Drake sprinted through throngs of people, pushing and shoving as he did. Several times, he stumbled into the dust, inviting sneers from the other street kids. He ignored them with a wistful spite and continued on his mission.

He had to find help for the assassin who had taken him in. He felt that he owed as much to Kruger for getting him out of his shithole of a city, regardless of the fact that he had landed him into a strange new one.

He didn't exactly know what he was looking for. A hospital? Crowe's house? All the streets were beginning to look the same. This city was far different from his own, and every sign was either in his second language or an alien one. The young boy felt lost and lonely once again. This feeling was nothing new, however, and he knew how to survive it.

Drake took extra care to memorize the path he had taken from Kruger. Simply leaving the mercenary to whatever fate had occurred to him, but he knew that he simply couldn't leave him, not now. If the situation went smoothly, Drake would still end up on the streets. If the situation went sour, then Drake would have an unbelievably skilled tail poised to strike when he was vulnerable.

Either way, he was indebted to Kruger and would stay by his side. Regardless of the consequences.

"Someone! Help!" Drake shouted into the crowds, his voice becoming hoarse from screaming. No one stopped to inquire why the filthy boy was yelling. The most attention Drake received was pitying sneers from disdainful passerby. He sought out expensive looking people, people who probably had access to care or at the very least a cell phone.

Eventually, he spied a youngish girl chattering away on her phone. With honed precision and skill, Drake slunk up behind her, snatched her phone and disappeared into an alley pulsing with the dull beat of a night club. Breathlessly, he hid behind a cluster of people smoking a joint while the woman he had just watched from came bustling around the corner. She was shouting up a storm, and gained the attention of the others in the alley. She raised enough of a ruckus that several people with guns on their hips bundled out from further within the alley.

One of those people, Drake inexplicably recognized.

"Boss' girl…"

Drake couldn't believe his eyes as he slowly rose from his hiding spot to get a better look at the girl he had helped aboard the Raven. The cell-phone girl immediately spied Drake, and snatched her phone back, scolding him in what he guessed was Spanish. With a slap to the back of the head, she left and the alley smokers returned to their recreation. The group that had come out of the pit further down began to leave. Drake took the moment to chase down the girl. Just before he could reach her, a burly security guard stopped him dead.

"Let go of me, _teef_!" Drake spat as he struggled. He was out of options. He and to get her attention. _What was her name? _he thought urgently, trying hard to recall what Kruger had called her. Finally, he remembered and yelled out at the top of his lungs, "Protea!"

He was not sure if the name was right, but when the girl stopped dead, Drake knew he had succeeded in gaining her attention. She whipped her head around in Drake's direction. She narrowed her eyes, searching out the one who had called her name. Her eyes came to settle on the struggling, spitting boy, and she raced over to him.

"Buster, it's okay," she reassured the guard holding Drake at bay. "I know him. Let him go." The guard complied and Protea ushered Drake into a private corner. "_Drakey_?" She sounded breathless, as _she_ had been the one sprinting around for ten straight minutes. "What are you… Where's Kruger?"

Drake would take note of the distress in her voice later. "I think he's been poisoned. You need to come, now!" He grasped her hand and tugged in Kruger's direction. She followed without a fight.

Together, they sprinted back towards the fallen mercenary. By the time they got back, Kruger was had stilled. A trail of foam trickled from the corner of his mouth and onto the ground. He had thrown up a little blood and a bluish liquid, and looked about ten minutes dead.

When she saw him, Protea let out a loud whimper and rushed over. Drake now took notice of how urgently she examined him, how distressed she looked to see him like this. Even Drake could see that these two had a connection deeper than mutual respect.

"He's still breathing!" Protea exclaimed after a short while. "We have to get him to a hospital. Now! There's one around the corner from here, about two blocks away."

Drake rolled his eyes in a gesture of disbelief. Of _course _there was a hospital around the corner, the only place he hadn't checked. Regardless, he saved the self-loathing for later. He helped Protea half-drag, half-carry the fallen Kruger to the emergency room. By the time they arrived and Kruger was taken into care, the two of them were panting hard from the effort. They collapsed on a waiting room bench and waited to hear news of the fallen mercenary.


	23. Chapter 22 The Last He Ever Was

**~ Dear Readers, for those who still follow my story, thank you for your support. Circumstances may have taken me away, but I'm back, baby! New chapters will come. More action will unfold. This I promise you. **

**Now, I would suggest re-reading the previous chapter, or perhaps the whole story as I **

**did, to get re-aquainted with my cast of characters. **

**Without further ado... I give you (albeit a tiny) Chapter 22! ~**

**~ Enjoy! ~ **

**- CS**

**XXII** _The Last He Ever Was_

**Kruger**

First, came the smell of smoke, acrid in my nostrils and thick in my lungs. Next, came the heat of the flames lashing at my legs, then my body. I had no protection against the fire. Bare, naked and vulnerable to the inferno growing slowly beneath me.

I couldn't even move.

I was chained, my limbs bound by biting iron. I tried to scream, but mechanical claws clamped themselves across my mouth like a vice. Though no sound emanated from my throat, my vocal cords were hoarse from the effort of trying to make myself known to the blackened world around me. The only thing visible was a single pinprick of light far, far ahead of me. I couldn't tell what it was from back here, but I knew it was important, I knew it was my way out, and I knew it was unreachable.

The chains suddenly lunged downwards, dragging me sharply down with them. The fire and heat tore at the flesh of my legs, making the flesh bubble and burn as I glanced wildly around me for an escape.

There was nothing. There was no escape.

The chains pulled me harder and faster, tearing into my flesh as easily as a blade through butter. I pulled on my restraints, screaming louder and louder as I desperately tried to break free. And then, spikes. Iron spikes aimed straight at my sternum, poised to pierce straight through my black heart. With horror and burning eyes I watched as the steely jagged blades ripped through my body, straight through me and out the other side. My wails of agony went unheard as though I were in a dream. I lay there, floating in mid-air as time slowed to a heart halt. A single drop of blood, _my_ blood, floated past my wild eyes. I watched it as time resumed it's normal pace, and began to convulse spastically as a jolt of burning electricity was shot through my system.

Had I been able to hear myself, I would have sworn that was the loudest I've ever cried.

Save for the day in the sand when my flower kissed me and slipped away.

I didn't have time to think about anything else before I was thrust about by the chains again. This time, when I fought against them, they simply shortened. My limbs were now slowly being pulled from my body by an invisible force. I felt myself giving way from the inside out. And then, I felt the strangest sensation all over my body. It was not painful, but powerful.

A hundred hands pawed at my body, gripping and ripping as they did. I tried in vain to fight them off, to fling them off me, but they crawled on skeletal fingers all over me. They had no host, just severed hands grabbing and violating ever part of me. They began to feel cold as they began to sink into my very skin. Eyes wide with terror, I screamed and begged them to stop with silent screams. The hands melted into my skin, spreading an overall coldness through my being. I lashed my head around wildly to see where they had gone; the hands, the chains, the flames. Nothing was there now. Just a coldness, and a feeling of floating. Trembling feverishly, I dared steal a glance towards the light I had seen before. Soaked to the bone in my own fear, that tiny light was the only thing in this hell that remotely gave me comfort. I stared at it, willing it to come closer. I floated slowly, gently, towards it.

I waited for what seemed like millennia. I was a patient man. I would wait.

The gentle beating of my heart told me I was alive, and that the light before me would truly be something comforting; something real and precious…


	24. Chapter 23 Anti-venom

*2052

**XXIII** _Anti-venom_

**Protea**

It was nearly four hours before Drakey and I received news of Kruger. The over-crowded hospital was not the place to treat emergency patients, but it was the best option we had had aside from a Medbay, which we didn't have. I sat in silence, breaking vigil every now and then to check on the boy stuck in the same stunned silence as me. I found it absolutely incredible, if not completely impossible that Drakey had found me. I didn't know if Kruger had tracked me somehow, or if I had simply been that bad at covering my tracks. Either way, the only feeling I had was a swelling sense of happiness. I was _happy_ that fate had brought the cobra and I back together, regardless of the dire circumstances.

Eventually, the doctor met us in the waiting room and explained what had happened to Kruger.

"You two are the… next of kin?" The doctor was only inquiring, but I don't think he appreciated the derisive snorts he got from both Drakey and I. He continued with a small scowl. "Friends, then? Either way, you two were very lucky to bring Agent Kruger in while you did."

Drakey and I looked concernedly at each other, wondering morbidly what could've happened. The doc went on.

"I've notified his team and coordinators. CCB, eh? They'll be here tonight to pick him up—"

"Um, no," I interrupted him, speaking purely out of impulse, "we'll be taking him back to his home." Drakey looked at me questioningly, and I improvised with, "H-He asked us to. We _are_ friends…of his. So…Um, yeah. You can send the bill to his address…"

The doctor looked at me strangely, but seemed to buy it. "Alright then… Anyways, it was extremely good of you to get him here as soon as you did. He was very nearly dead by the time he was wheeled into ER, and he actually expired before we got him on the bed." The doctor held up his hands in reassurance as both Drakey and I gasped in horror. "We were able to revive him though, using a shot of C3-25 adrenaline and a good old defibrillation. If you know what that is, you'd guess that we had to restrain him. It's got a big kick to it. Also, you should know that there was a near toxic level of alcohol in system," he said sternly. "You should let him know about that when he wakes up. We've also set him up with a drip to flush the alcohol out his system." The doctor studied us both. "Keep an eye on him. If you're the only ones he has, I'd suggest staying that way.

My heart began to hammer at the thought of staying with Kruger. I reached out with a shaky hand and thanked the doctor. "Thank you, doc, for doing all you could," I sighed honestly. The gut-wrenching feeling I got when I thought of Kruger dying… It was bizarre. _Although_, I thought to myself, _I think we're over the "I'd like to see you dead" phase and into the "I'd much prefer you alive" stage…_ With a heavy heart,I trudged back to the waiting room with Drakey. The doctor told me that he would ferry the bill to Kruger's team, and graciously comply with my wishes of sending it out a day later. He also said that since they had Kruger under sedation, a sister company to Mercy hospital would "deliver" the mercenary to his home. Perhaps it was _because_ he was a mercenary that they did this for him. Either way, the boy and I were grateful we didn't have to drag a sedated Kruger the whole way home in the dark.

The staff at the hospital were kind enough to lend a hand in carrying Kruger out to the cab. We thanked them again and got in the CCB army truck that acted as our own private coach. The personal cab brought the three of us back to Kruger's apartment later that night. I received special instructions on how to operate the nifty little portable drip Kruger would need for the next 48 hours. It was neat device, probably a token from the CCB for their men to use in emergencies like this. I had asked why Kruger needed the drip. The doctor had explained that in all his years of medicine, he had come to trust his hunches - this developed into a thought about the mercenary's state he was in when I had found him. He said that foam from the mouth doesn't happen spontaneously, usually, and that he wanted to cover all bases, just in case.

_"__In case of what?" I had asked. _

_ "__Poison."_

_A shiver had gone down my spine then. _

We arrived at Kruger's apartment and somehow managed to drag him up the single flight of stairs. Within a half hour, Drakey and I had hauled the deadweight up the stairs and laid him on his bed. He was still groggy, but blissfully unaware of his situation. He slept deeply, unhindered by anything.

Drakey and I settled in the grungy living room. I noted that it was the cleanest room of the house, one of the only ones without a dozen empty beer bottles in it. The boy stretched out lazily, reclining further into the surprisingly soft couch. I looked over at him, wondering how he could persist in staying by Kruger's side. Perhaps it was where he was meant to be, he seemed like the soldierly type, definitely. But not now. He was so young, and anyone would know Kruger was probably the least responsible adults Drakey could end up with. I snorted with dark humour at the thought of Drakey calling the mercenary "dad".

I must have drifted off, for when I woke up, sunlight was pouring in through the ratty blinds of Kruger's apartment. It even took a moment to register where I was, and when I did, adrenaline spiked me awake. Part of my body screamed at me to run, while the other told me to stay perfectly still, like a mouse caught in a trap.

Curiosity overtook me and I rose silently from the couch and walked towards the sleeping Kruger's bedroom. Taking extreme care to keep silent, I cracked the door open just enough to peer into the dingy, darkened room. A sliver of light cut through the boarded up window in the dark bedroom, landing squarely across the mercenary's bare neck and shoulders. I took a deep breath and opened the door a little further. Drakey was asleep in another room. _His_ bedroom, from what I gathered of the situation. I stole a look at the mercenary again, musing at how much I had misjudged his capacity for compassion.

Approaching Kruger sleeping was just as you might think it would be; like creeping up on a sleeping lion, praying you wouldn't wake it because you knew it could rip you to pieces if it wanted to. I studied him from a distance, thinking about the last week, and thinking about how much he had changed in my perception.

_I guess I've changed pretty drastically in his eyes, too… _

My thoughts were interrupted as Kruger stirred slightly in his bed. My heart kicked into arrhythmia. I briefly wracked my brain for reasons I should be here. I really shouldn't. I should leave. What could possibly keep me here? In Los Angeles for that fact, let alone Kruger's home. His crew would be here. What would they say if they saw me here? This was a dangerous place to be, like in the back of a snake's pit, waiting for the serpent to come back and find an intruder in it's nest.

_Is that what I am here? An intruder?_

As I battled with the idea, a little six-letter F-word formed partially in my head. I shivered at the thought of it. I continued to watch Kruger shift a little in his bed, watching the muscles in his chest contract as he breathed. I couldn't tell now why my heart was beating so madly; the fear or the fluster. Curious, I checked the drip attached to Kruger's arm.

It was a pen-like device that had a thin clear tube sticking out the bottom of it. The end of the tube disappeared into a shapely metal plate in Kruger's forearm, a similar attribute I noticed he bore now all over his body. Pieces of metal on his face, chest and arms that looked to be part of something else. Either way, the metallic bits were a part of him.

As I was monitoring the drip's liquid levels, keeping a hand on Kruger's pulse and an eye on the clock, as I was told to, Kruger woke up.

He woke up slowly, first sighing deeply to wake up his body. Then, after very long moments, he opened his eyes. His head was turned towards the window, away from me. As he stared lazily at the pinprick of light, I held my breath and slowly crouched low. I didn't move my hand from his wrist, just stared up at him from the edge of the bed fearing these were the last moments of my life. The moments before the lion recognized your presence, before it attacked. He muttered something unintelligible, and yawned.

_Bolt out of here, he can't catch you when he's like this. You can go free forever._

My thoughts were of no solace. I thought I had already done that, gotten away. And I did. But… _I_ _came_ _back_.

My warring thoughts were almost enough to knock me off balance. But I stayed put, still as a statue, as Kruger's eyes turned slowly to meet mine.

Time seemed to stop in that moment.

**Kruger**

Time froze.

Her eyes, _her_ eyes… They were right there. Right _here_, right in front of me… I doubted reality. This couldn't be real. Protea had vanished, run away from me. She had gone. Forever…

But no. No, this wasn't real.

_Right hand, clench…? _

Moments passed… My hand did as it was commanded.

_Eyes, blink…_

My eyes fluttered in disbelief.

_It's_…_real_…

Protea's eyelids fluttered, too. She was just as confused as I was, but for different reasons. I was wondering where I was and what had happened. I thought for sure I was dead. I was sure that was Hell. That light, though… What had it been? Thoughts of confusion, surprise, shock, anger and fear crossed my weathered mind as I tried to compute everything at once. Finally, mercifully, the only thought that eventually flooded my mind was _relief_.

"Hi…"

Her voice was like a soothing blanket around my trembling shoulders. And though I was not cold, or trembling even, it was enough to quell the fire I felt in my brain. I could only blink in response, still shocked as to why she was here. I still couldn't trust my eyes.

Suddenly, my bedroom door opened, and Drakey appeared in the doorway. His face lit up as I watched him, and he came bouncing up beside the apparition that looked like Protea.

"Kruga!" he cried softly. "You're awake! I knew you'd make it." The boy slung his arm around the girl, behaving as though she were there. I blinked madly, trying to adjust my eyes, thinking it was just a trick of the light.

"What happened…?" I managed to ask through gritted teeth and a hoarse throat. Protea's eyes seemed to go glassy, and a look of relief passed over her face. I thought it strange she would be concerned in the slightest for me. She…hated me. _Right_?

"Drakey found me," Protea started, a little shakily.

"You were almost _dead_, boss!" the boy shouted, throwing his arms in the air. "Actually, ya _did _die…"

I blinked, trying to understand, looking to the supposed Protea for information. She responded by blinking just as madly. "By the time we brought you to the hospital… You were dead. They said that you died as they got you on the bed." I tried to understand what she was saying. Could this have been why I had seen and felt such a vision of Hell? Maybe I had actually been there and back.

_Scary._

"They had to revive you with C3-25 and a shock," Protea explained, looking worriedly at Drake.

"Must've hurt like a bitch…!" I laughed weakly, having felt the pain of the wicked strong adrenaline before. Maybe that explains the freakish nightmare I had…

Protea hardly chuckled. Drake put an enthusiastic hand on her shoulder. "I'm gonna go git somethin' to eat. Ya have any chedda', _meisie_?" he asked Protea, sticking out his other hand.

"No, sorry, Drakey," she apologized, shaking her head.

The little boy straightened up, a proud grin on his face. "Well, then… I guess I'll just have to make some." Protea's eyebrow raised in question. "_Steal _it, Protea! Sheesh…" With that, he bounced out of my bedroom and out into the streets to pick many a innocent bystander.

_Good kid_, I smiled inwardly.

"It's good to see you can smile after all this."

I was caught off-guard by her eyes on mine. I guess I'd actually smiled a little after the boy. A defensive scowl crossed my face and I sneered in derision. "I don't smile…" I growled.

The girl nodded, smiling a little herself, albeit in an annoying, teasing way. "Yeah. Okay, sure…" In a movement that looked tense, she cautiously sat on the edge of my bed by my feet. My body tensed. She looked sad. Or confused. Or tired. Something like that. Either way, she looked about as defeated as I felt. "You know… The first time we met wasn't actually the first."

"Eh?"

"We've met before."

I wracked my brain for an answer. I couldn't conceive of one. "I don't recall…?" I ventured curiously, propping up on one shoulder to get a better view of the girl.

"It was _years_ ago… You shouldn't remember." Protea took a deep breath, looking thoughtful. "I was young, maybe sixteen, give or take a few Medbay-shedded years… I was with my dad. You were just a soldier then, I think. I remember walking with my dad through the CCB. He was repairing some of the equipment in the military's wing. He brought me along cause he wanted to show me how the Medbays worked from the inside out…" She smiled, as if looked back on fond memories. "He was so great at fixing things… I mean, he ought to be, considering he _built_ the things—" Protea stopped herself, shutting her mouth. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, silently asking her what was wrong. "You know…" she eventually said, "When you asked me why I left Elysium? I didn't really have an answer. Part of me wanted to stay, but… Part of me didn't want the weight of my family on my shoulders…"

"The weight of your family…?" The curiosity in my voice surprised even me. Suddenly, I felt guilty for interrupting. I grumbled something that may have been an apology, and ducked my head away, grunting at her to go on. I heard her sigh again, and continue.

"Well… My family - my father - was actually the first to…to develop the Medbay technology…"

I was thankful that Protea couldn't see my eyebrows jump up in surprise and amazement. I hadn't ever given much thought to the admittedly awesome technology that the royals on Elysium had access to, the tech that could theoretically give immortality. As I was thinking about all that power, Protea went on and I shut my thoughts off.

"I just didn't want the responsibility of my father's legacy… I wasn't ready… Regardless, he sold the invention to Elysium, and since he was the only one who knew it's base programming, was invited to board Elysium as one of it's first citizens. That's how I ended up there. I was born there… Anyway… Um. So he took me with him that day to the CCB, to the prison… Only, it wasn't a prison then. It was more of a military hangout, I guess. It was a place where mercenaries and soldiers got their new weapons and gear. What do you call that? A bunker? Never mind. But… But that day I saw you. I _swear_, thinking about it now, it _was _you."

I felt Protea's eyes on my turned away head. It took strength to keep from looking back at her. I

wanted to, but I didn't. I shook my head in understanding, though I did not, and urged her to carry on.

"I think it was, anyway…" she mused to herself. "Did you wear your hair shorter back then? Around *'52? All I remember is my father pointing out each of the soldiers in the room, and telling me each one's names and their strengths."

_What was mine? _

"Yours was your cunning, your ruthlessness, at such an early stage in your tour… Your… Eagerness to destroy_…_"

Protea trailed off, as if the sentence had somehow changed who I was in front of her eyes, as if the last few days didn't exist. I could feel the fear in her as she gazed at me sidelong. I could scarcely make out her profile as I gazed sidelong at her, too. I was reminded of what I was, what I am. Suddenly I felt afraid. Afraid of losing her for the third time. This strange, unidentifiable attachment to her, this possessiveness had taken over my thoughts the last week. I couldn't name what it was; I had never known it before.

_This must be some sort of syndrome_, I thought bitterly. Suddenly, I felt the weight lift off the foot of my bed. I bolted upright, a jolt of adrenaline rushing through me at the thought of Protea vanishing. My heart just about burst when I saw the look of shock on her face.

_You're still here…_

Panicked, I thought madly of something to say. "Eh… Please, eh… Pl-Please stay… For a little while…l-longer…" The word 'please' felt strange in my mouth. Foreign. I stared into her eyes, as if there were some invisible tether that held her to me, and I bade her to return to my bed. I shifted slightly on my shoulders, though not reclining back.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?!_

Protea was shaken by me, but she nodded briskly, afraid.

_Please, don't be afraid…_

Her eyes flickered around me, around my face and body. I couldn't tell what she was thinking. Her body read flight. She was ready to run again. Like a startled bird, prepared to whisk itself away from danger in a second.

I would do anything to keep her from getting away again.

I went to lunge for her, to grab her. I managed to grab hold of her wrist. She fought against me, flinging her arm in different directions to try to throw me off. My grip was soft, but firm; I did not want to hurt her, but I could not let her go. If only she could understand! She continued to fight, lunging with her other hand to rip away mine. Protea grabbed my wrist and slammed it down next to my head, sending me falling back against the bed. The force with which I fell brought her tumbling forward down on top of me. Abruptly, she stopped fighting. She stared, panting down at me, eyes wide and pulse racing.

**Protea**

I could hold myself back no longer.

Feeling the breath, terror and tension explode forth from me, I kissed Agent Kruger with such ferocity I could hardly decipher what I was doing.


End file.
